973.7Lv63 
DT6G4L 


Townsend,  George  Alfred. 

The  Life,  Crime,  and 
Capture  of  John  Y/ilkes 
Booth. 


LINCOLN  ROOM 


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THE  LIFE,  CRIME,  AND  CAPTURE 


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MD  THE  PURSUIT,  TRIAL  AKD  EXECUTION  OF  HIS  ACCOMPLICES. 


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From  "  HiLRPEK'S  WEEKLY,"  for  April  29th,  1S65. 


J 


m 


THE  LIFE,  CRIME,  AND  CAPTURE 


^1 


at 


JOHN  WILKES  BOOTH, 


WITH  A  FULL  SKETCH  OF  THE 


/ 


Conspiracy  of  wliich  lie  was  tlie  Leader, 


AND  THE 


PUESUIT,  TRIAL  AND  EXECUTION  OF  HIS  ACCOMPLICES. 


BY  GEORGE  ALFRED  TOWNSEND, 


A    SPBCIAIi     COEEESPONDENT. 


W^ 


NEW    YORK: 
DICK    &    FITZGERALD,     PUBLISHER? 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865, 
By  dick  &  Jt'ITZGEBALD, 

In  the  Clerk's  OfiBce  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  th« 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 
I 


jlJ" 


^^, 


-  ••(•, 


''  / 


EXPLANATORY. 


One  year  ago  the  writer  of  the  letters  which  follow,  visiled  the 
Battle  Field  of  Waterloo.  In  looking  over  many  relics  of  the  combat 
preserved  in  the  Museum  there,  he  was  particularly  interested  in  the  files 
of  journals  contemporary  with  the  action.  These  contained  the  Duke  of 
Wellington's  first  despatch  announcing  the  victory,  the  reports  of  the  sub- 
ordinate commanders,  and  the  current  gossip  as  to  the  episodes  and 
hazards  of  the  day. 

The  time  will  come  when  remarkable  incidents  of  these  our  times 
will  be  a  staple  of  as  great  curiosity  as  the  issue  of  Waterloo.  It  is  an 
incident  without  a  precedent  on  this  side  of  the  globe,  and  never  to  be 
repeated. 

Assassination  has  made  its  last  effort  to  become  indigenous  here. 
The  public  sentiment  of  Loyalist  and  Rebel  has  denounced  it :  the  world 
has  remarked  it  with  uplifted  hands  and  words  of  execration.  Therefore, 
as  long  as  history  shall  hold  good,  the  murder  of  the  President  will  be  a 
theme  for  poesy,  romance  and  tragedy.  We  who  live  in  this  consecrated 
time  keep  the  sacred  souvenirs  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  death  in  our  possession  ; 
and  the  best  of  these  are  the  news  letters  descriptive  of  his  apotheosis, 
and  the  fate  of  the  conspirators  who  slew  him. 

I  represented  the  World  newspaper  at  Washington  during  the  whole 
of  those  exciting  weeks,  and  wrote  their  occurrences  fresh  from  the 
mouths  of  the  actors. 


/ 


iv  Prefatory. 

It  has  seemed  fitting  to  Messrs.  Dick  <fe  Fitzgerald  to  repn 
the  World  letters,  as  a  keepsake  for  the  many  who  received  them  kindly » 
The  Sketches  appended  were  conscientiously  written,  and  whatever  em- 
bellishments they  may  seem  to  have  grew  out  of  the  stirring  events, — not 
out  of  my  fancy. 

Subsequent  investigation  has  confirmed  the  veracity  even  of  their 
speculations.  I  have  arranged  them,  but  have  not  altered  them  ;  if  they 
represent  nothing  else,  they  do  carry  with  them  the  fever  and  spirit  of 
the  time.  But  they  do  not  assume  to  be  literal  history :  We  live  too 
close  to  the  events  related  to  decide  positively  upon  them.  As  a  brochure 
of  the  day,  —  nothing  more,  —  I  give  these  Sketches  of  a  Correspondent 
to  the  public. 

G.  A.  T. 


THE  LIFE,  CRIME,  AND  CAPTURE 


OF 


JOHN    WILKES    BOOTH. 


LETTER    I. 
THE     XIJE.DEB. 

Washington,  April  17. 

Some  very  deliberate  and  extraordinary  movements  were  made  by  a 
handsome  and  extremely  well-dressed  young  man  in  the  city  of  Washing- 
ton last  Friday.  At  about  half-past  eleven  o'clock  a.  m.,  this  person,  whose 
name  is  J.  Wilkes  Booth,  by  profession  an  actor,  and  recently  engaged  in 
oil  speculations,  sauntered  into  Ford's  Theater,  on  Tenth,  between  E  and 
F  streets,  and  exchanged  greetings  with  the  man  at  the  box-office.  In  the 
conversation  which  ensued,  the  ticket  agent  informed  Booth  that  a  box  was 
taken  for  Mr.  Lincoln  and  General  Grant,  who  were  expected  to  visit  the 
theater,  and  contribute  to  the  benefit  of  Miss  Laura  Keene,  and  satisfy  the 
curiosity  of  a  large  audience.  Mr.  Booth  went  away  with  a  jest,  and  a 
lightly-spoken  "  Good  afternoon."  Strolling  down  to  Pumphreys'  stable, 
on  C  street,  in  the  rear  of  the  National  Hotel,  he  engaged  a  saddle  horse, 
a  high-strung,  ftist,  beautiful  bay  mare,  telling  Mr.  Pumphreys  that  he 
should  call  for  her  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 

From  here  he  went  to  the  Kirk  wood  Hotel,  on  the  corner  of  Pennsylva- 
nia avenue  and  Twelfth  street,  where,  calling  for  a  card  and  a  sheet  of  note- 
paper,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  upon  the  first  as  follows : 

For  Mr.  Andrew  Johnson  : — 

1  dou't  wish  to  disturb  you ;  aro  you  at  home  ? 

J.  W.  Booth. 

To  this  message,  which  was  sent  up  by  the  obliging  clerk,  Mr.  Johnson 
responded  that  he  was  very  busily  engaged.  Mr.  Booth  smiled,  and  turn- 
ino-  to  his  sheet  of  note-paper,  wrote  on  it.  The  fact,  if  fact  it  is,  that  he  had 
been  disappointed  in  not  obtaining  an  examination  of  the  Vice-President's 
apartment  and  a  knowledge  of  the  Vice-President's  probable  whereabouts 
the  ensuing  evening,  in  no  way  affected  his  composure.  The  note,  the  con- 
tents of  which  are  unknown,  was  signed  and  sealed  within  a  few  momenta. 
Booth  arose,  bowed  to  an  acquaintance,  and  passed  into  the  street.  His 
elegant  person  was  seen  on  the  avenue  a  few  minutes,  and  was  withdrawn 
into  the  Metropolitan  Hotel. 

At  4  p.  M.,  he  again  appeared  at  Pumphreys'  livery  stable,  mounted  the 
mare  he  had  engaged,  rode  leisurely  up  F  street,  turned  into  au  alley  be- 


••  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wi^es  Booth. 

tween  Ninth  and  Tenth  streets,  and  thence  into  an  alley  releading  to  the 
rear  of  Ford's  Theater,  which  fronts  on  Tenth  street,  between  E  and  F 
streets.  Here  he  alighted  and  deposited  the  mare  in  a  smaLl  stable  oft'  the 
alley,  which  he  had  hired  some  time  before  for  the  accommodation  of  a 
saddle-horse  which  he  had  recently  sold.  Mr.  Booth  soon  afterward  retired 
from  the  stable,  and  is  supposed  to  have  refreshed  himself  at  a  neighboring 
bar-room. 

At  8  o'clock  the  same  evening.  President  Lincoln  and  Speaker  Colfax 
sat  together  in  a  private  room  at  the  White  House,  pleasantly  conversing. 
General  Grant,  with  whom  the  President  had  engaared  to  attend  Ford's 
Theater  that  evening,  had  left  with  his  wife  for  Burlington,  New-Jersey,  in 
the  6  o'clock  train.  After  this  departure  Mr.  Lincoln  rather  reluctantly 
determined  to  keep  his  part  of  the  engagement,  rather  than  to  disappoint 
his  friends  and  the  audience.  Mrs.  Lincoln,  entering  the  room  and  turn- 
ing to  Mr.  Colfax,  said,  in  a  half  laughing",  half  serious  way,  "  Well,  Mr. 
Lincoln,  are  you  going  to  the  theater  with  me  or  noti"  "I  suppose  I 
shall  have  to  go,  Colfax,"  said  the  President,  and  the  Speaker  took  his  leave 
in  company  with  Major  Rathbone,  of  the  Provost-Marshal  General's  office, 
who  escorted  Miss  Harris,  daughter  of  Senator  Harris,  of  New-York.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lincoln  reached  Ford's  Theater  at  twenty  minutes  before  9 
o'clock. 

The  house  was  filled  in  every  part  with  a  large  and  brilliantly  attired 
audience.  As  the  presidential  party  ascended  the  stairs,  and  passed  behind 
the  dress  circle  to  the  entrance  of  the  private  box  reserved  for  them,  the 
whole  assemblage,  having  in  mind  the  recent  Union  victories,  arose,  cheer- 
ed, waving  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  and  manifesting  every  other  accustomed 
sign  of  enthusiasm.     The  President,  last  to  enter  the  box,  turned  before 

Scene  of  the  Assassination. 


i  President's  Position.  A  The  course  of  the  Assassin  after  the  Murder.  ^B 
JMovahle  partition  not  in  use  on  the  uight  of  the  Assassination.  />  Door  through  which 
the  Assasain  looked  in  taking  aim,       0  Closed  door  through  which  piatol  ball  wa«  fix^d. 


The  Murder. 


doing  so,  and  bowed  a  courteous  acknowledgment  of  his  reception.  At 
the  moment  of  the  President's  arrival,  Mr.  Hawks,  one  of  the  actors,  per- 
forming  the  well-known  part  of  Dundreary,  had  exclaimed :  "  This  re- 
minds me  of  a  story,  as  Mr.  Lincoln  says."  The  audience  forced  him, 
after  the  interruption,  to  tell  the  story  over  again.  It  evidently  pleased 
Mr.  Lincoln,  who  turned  laughingly  to  his  wife  and  made  a  remark  which 
was  not  overheard. 

The  box  in  which  the  President  sat  consisted  of  two  boxes  turned  into 
one,  the  middle  partition  being  removed,  as  on  all  occasions  when  a  state 
party  visited  the  theater.  The  box  was  on  a  level  with  the  dress  circle; 
about  twelve  feet  above  the  stage.  There  were  two  entrances — the  door 
nearest  to  the  wall  having  been  closed  and  locked  ;  the  door  nearest  the 
balustrades  of  the  dress  circle,  and  at  right  angles  with  it,  being  open  and 
left  open  after  the  visitors  had  entered.  The  interior  was  carpeted,  lined 
with  crimson  paper,  and  furnished  with  a  sofa  covered  with  crimson  velvet, 
three  arm  chairs  similarly  covered,  and  six  cane-bottomed  chairs.  Fes- 
toons of  flags  hung  before  the  front  of  the  box  against  a  background  of  lace. 

President  Lincoln  took  one  of  the  arm-chairs  and  seated  himself  in  the 
front  of  the  box,  in  the  angle  nearest  the  audience,  where,  partially  screen- 
ed from  observation,  he  had  the  best  view  of  what  was  transpiring  on  the 
stage.  Mrs.  Lincoln  sat  next  to  him,  and  Miss  Harris  in  the  opposite  angle 
nearest  the  stage.  Major  Rathbone  sat  just  behind  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  Miss 
Harris.     These  four  were  the  only  persons  in  the  box. 

The  play  proceeded,  although  "  Our  American  Cousin,"  without  Mr. 
Sothern,  has,  since  that  gentleman's  departure  from  this  country,  been  just- 
ly esteemed  a  very  dull  affiiir.  The  audience  at  Ford's,  including  Mrs. 
Lincoln,  seemed  to  enjoy  it  very  much.  The  worthv  wife  of  the  President 
leaned  forward,  her  hand  upon  her  husband's  knee,  watching  every  scene 
in  the  drama  with  amused  attention.  Even  across  the  President's  face  at 
intervals  swept  a  smile,  robbing  it  of  its  habitual  sadness. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  second  act,  the  mare,  standing  in  the  stable 
in  the  rear  of  the  theater,  was  disturbed  in  the  midst  of  her  meal  by  the 
entrance  of  the  young  man  who  had  quitted  her  in  the  afternoon.  It  is 
presumed  that  she  was  saddled  and  bridled  with  exquisite  care. 

Having  completed  these  preparations,  Mr.  Booth  entered  the  theater  by 
the  stage  door;  summoned  one  of  the  scene  shifters,  Mr.  John  Spangler, 
emerged  through  the  same  door  with  that  individual,  leaving  the  door  open, 
and  left  the  mare  in  his  hands  to  be  held  until  he  (Booth)  should  return. 
Booth  who  was  even  more  fashionably  and  richly  dressed  than  usual,  walk- 
ed thence  around  to  the  front  of  the  theater,  and  went  in.  Ascending  to 
the  dress  circle,  he  stood  for  a  little  time  gazing  around  upon  the  audience 
and  occasionally  upon  the  stage  in  his  usual  graceful  manner.  He  was 
subsequently  observed  by  Mr.  Ford,  the  proprietor  of  the  theater,  to  be 
slowly  elbowing  his  way  through  the  crowd  that  packed  the  rear  of  the 
dress  circle  toward  the  right  side,  at  the  extremity  of  which  was  the  box 
where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  their  companions  were  seated.  Mr.  Ford 
casually  noticed  this  as  a  slightly  extraordinary  symptom  of  interest  on 
the  part  of  an  actor  so  familiar  with  the  routine  of  the  theater  and  the  play. 

The  curtain  had  arisen  on  the  third  act,  Mrs.  Mountchessingtoii  and  Asa 
Trenchard  were  exchanging  vivacious  stupidities,  when  a  young  man,  so 
precisely  resembling  the  one  described  as  J.  Wilkes  Booth  that  he  is  as- 
serted to  be  the  same,  appeared  before  the  open  door  of  the  President's 
box,  and  prepared  to  enter. 

The  servant  who  attended  Mr.  Lincoln  said  politely,  "this  is  the  Presi- 


.W 


6 


The  Life,  Crime  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 


dent's  "box,  sir,  no  one  is  permitted  to  enter."  "  I  am  a  senator,"  respond, 
ed  the  person,  "  Mr.  Lincoln  has  ^nt  for  me."  The  attendant  gave  way, 
and  the  young  man  passed  into  the  box. 

As  he  appeared  at  the  door,  taking  a  quick,  comprehensive  glance  at  th6 
interior,  Major  Rathbone  arose.  "  Are  you  aware,  sir,"  he  said,  courteous- 
ly, "  upon  whom  you  are  intruding?  This  is  the  President's  box,  and  no 
one  is  admitted."  The  intruder  answered  not  a  word.  Fastening  his  eyes 
upon  Mr,  Lincoln,  who  had  h^f  turned  his  head  to  ascertain  what  caused 
the  disturbance,  he  stepped  quickly  back  without  the  door. 

Without  this  door  there  was  an  eyehole,  bored  it  is  presumed  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  crime,  while  the  theater  was  deserted  by  all  save  a  few 
mechanics.  Glancing  through  this  orifice,  John  Wilkes  Booth  espied  in  a 
moment  the  precise  position  of  the  President ;  he  wore  upon  his  wrinkling 
face  the  pleasant  embryo  of  an  honest  smile,  forgetting  in  the  mimic  scene 
the  splendid  successes  of  our  arms  for  which  he  was  responsible,  and  the 
history  he  had  filled  so  well. 

The  cheerful  interior  was  lost  to  J.  Wilkes  Booth.  He  did'  not  catch 
the  spirit  of  the  delighted"  audience,  of  the  flaming  lamps  flinging  illumina- 
tion upon  the  domestic  foreground  and  the  gaily  set  stage.  He  only  cast 
one  furtive  glance  upon  the  man  he  was  to  slay,  and  thrusting  one  hand 
in  his  bosom,  another  in  his  skirt  pocket,  drew  forth  simultaneously  his 
deadly  weapons.     His  right  palm  grasped  a  Derringer  pistol,  his  left  a  dirk. 

Thenj  at  a  stride,  he  passed  the  threshold  again,  levelled  his  arm  at  the 
President  and  bent  the  trigger. 

A  keen  quick  report  and  a  puflT  of  white  smoke, — a  close  smell  of 
powder  and  the  rush  of  a  dark,  imperfectly  outlined  figure,— and  the 
President's  head  dropped  upon  his  shoulders  :  the  ball  was  in  his  brain. 

The  movements  of  the  assassin  were  from  henceforth  quick  aa  the  light 
The  Theatre  and  its  Surroundings. 


9TH.  ST. 


m 


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XOth.  ST. 


A  Pul-lic  School.  B  Herndon  House.  C  Onlj  vacant  lot  commnnicatiiu:  with  the 
Alley.  V  Only  allov  outlet  to  F  street.  E  Bank.  X  Eostmirar  .  Cr  iXowspa'^cr 
OUice.  JI  -M.kUI  House.  /  Uoubs  to  which  tho  Prtiideut  wju  Uken.  K  Alky 
throHjfh  which  tha  Murderer  escaped. 


The  Murder. 


9 


ning,  he  dropped  his  pistol  on  the  floor,  and  drawing  a  bowie-knife,  struck 
Major  Rath  bone,  who  opposed  him,  ripping  ♦^^hrough  his  coat  from  the 
shoulder  down,  and  inflicting  a  severe  flesh  wound  in  his  arm.  He  leaped 
then  upon  the  velvet  covered  balustrade  at*  the  front  of  the  box,  between 
Mrs.  Lincoln  and  Miss  Harris,  and,  parting  with  both  hands  the  flags  that 
drooped  on  either  side,  dropped  to  the  stage  beneath.  Arising  and  turning 
full  upon  the  audience,  with  the  knife  lifted  in  his  right  hand  above  his 
head,  he  shouted  "Sic  semper  tyrannis — Virginia  is  avenged  !"  Another 
instant  he  had  fled  across  the  stage  and  behind  the  scenes.     Colonel  .T 


TO   FST.    H 


A  Miss  Lanra  Keene's  Position.  D  Movable  partition  wall  not  in  place  on  Friday. 
P  Position  of  the  i'resideiit.  X  Flats.  B  Dark  Passaare-ws^y — Position  of  Sentry. 
E  Exit,  or  Stage  Door.  MM  Entrance  to  Box.  CCC  Entraac«  to  Dress  Circle.  M 
Position  of  Booth's  Horse. 

B.  Stewart,  the  only  person  in  the  audience  who  seemed  to  comprehend  the 
deed  he  had  committed,  climbed  from  his  seat  near  the  orchestra  to  the 
stage,  and  followed  close  behind.  The  assassin  was  too  fleet  and  too  des- 
perate, that  fury  incarnate,  meeting  Mr.  Withers,  the  leader  of  the  orches- 
tra, just  behind  the  scenes,  had  stricken  him  aside  with  a  blow  that  fortu- 
nately was  not  a  wound  ;  overturning  Miss  Jenny  GouHay,  an  ac^^ess, 
who  came  next  in  his  path,  he  gained,  without  further  hindrance,  the  back 
door  previously  left  open  at  the  rear  of  the  theater ;  rushed  through  it ; 
leaped  upon  the  horse  held  by  Mr.  Spangler,  and  without  vouchsafing  that 


V. 


t 


10  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

person  a  word  of  information,  rode  out  through  the  alley  leading  into  F 
street,  and  thenos  i  ipidly  away.  Ilis  horse's  hoofs  might  almost  have 
been  heard  amid  the  silence  that  for  a  few  seconds  dwelt  in  the  interior  of 
the  theater. 

Then  Mrs.  Lincoln  screamed,  Miss  Harris  cried  for  water,  and  the  full 
ghastly  truth  broke  upon  all — "The  President  is  murdered  !  "  The  scene 
that  ensued  was  as  tumultuous  and  terrible  as  one  of  Dante's  pictures  of 
hell.  Some  women  fainted,  others  uttered  piercing  shrieks,  and  cries  for 
vengeance  and  unmeaning  shouts  for  help  burst  from  the  mouths  of  men. 
Miss  Laura  Keene,  the  actress,  proved  herself  in  this  awful  time  as  equal 
to  sustain  a  part  in  real  tragedy  as  to  interpret  that  of  the  stage.  Pausing 
one  moment  before  the  footlights  to  entreat  the  audience  to  be  calm,  she 
ascended  the  stairs  in  the  rear  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  box,  entered  it,  took  the 
dying  President's  head  in  her  lap,  bathed  it  with  the  water  she  had  brought, 
and  endeavoured  to  force  some  of  the  liquid  through  the  insensible  lips. 
The  locality  of  the  wound  was  at  first  supposed  to  be  in  the  breast.  It 
was  not  until  after  the  neck  and  shoulders  had  been  bared  and  no  mark 
discovered,  that  the  dress  of  Miss  Keene,  stained  with  blood,  revealed  where 
the  ball  had  penetrated. 

This  moment  gave  the  most  impressive  episode  in  the  history  of  the 
Continent. 

The  Chief  Magistrate  of  thirty  millions  of  people — beloved,  honored, 
revered, — lay  in  the  pent  up  closet  of  a  pjay-house,  dabbling  with  his  sa- 
cred blood  the  robes  of  an  actress. 

As  soon  as  the  confusion  and  crowd  was  partially  overcome,  the  form 
of  the  President  was  conveyed  from  the  theater  to  the  residence  of  Mr. 
Peterson,  on  the  opposite  side  of  Tenth  street.  Here  upon  a  bed,  in  a 
little  hastily  prepared  chamber,  it  was  laid  and  attended  by  Surgeoa- 
General  Barnes  and  other  physicians,  speedily  summoned. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  news  spread  through  the  capital,  as  if  borne  on 
tonfjues  of  flame.  Senator  Sumner,  hearing  at  his  residence,  of  the  affair 
took  a  carriage  and  drove  at  a  gallop  to  the  White  House,  when  he  heard 
where  it  had  taken  place,  to  find  Robert  Lincoln  and  other  members  of 
the  household  still  unaware  of  it.  Both  drove  to  Ford's  Theater,  and 
were  soon  at  the  President's  bedside.  Secretary  Stanton  and  the  other 
members  of  the  cabinet  were  at  hand  almost  as  soon.  A  vast  crowd,  surg- 
ing up  Pennsylvania  avenue  toward  Willard's  Hotel,  cried,  ".The  Presi- 
dent is  shot !"  "  President  Lincoln  is  murdered."  Another  crowd  sweep- 
ing down  the  avenue  met  the  first  with  the  tidings,  "  Secretary  Seward  has 
been  assassinated  in  bed."  Instantly  a  wild  apprehension  of  an  organized 
conspiracy  and  of  other  murders  took  possession  of  the  people.  The  shout 
"  to  arms  !"  was  mingled  with  the  expressions  of  sorrow  and  rage  that  ev- 
erywhere filled  the  air.  "  Where  is  General  Grant  ?"  or  "  where  is  Secre- 
tary Stantpn  !"  "  Where  are  the  rest  of  the  cabinet  ?"  broke  from  thous- 
ands of  lips.  A  conflagration  of  fire  is  not  half  so  terrible  as  was  the 
conflagration  of  passion  that  rolled  through  the  streets  and  houses  of 
Washington  on  that  awful  night. 

The  attempt  on  the  life  of  Secretary  Seward  was  perhaps  as  daring,  if 
not  so  dramatic,  as  the  assassination  of  the  President.  At  9  :20  o'clock  a 
man,  tall,  athletic,  and  dressed  in  light  coloured  clothes,  alighted  from  a 
horse  in  front  of  Mr.  Seward's  residence  in  Madison  place,  where  the  secr&. 
tary  was  lying,  very  feeble  from  his  recent  injuries.  The  house,  a  solid 
three-story  brick  building,  was  formerly  the  old  Washington  Club-house. 
Leaving  his  horse  standing,  the  stranger  rang  at  the  door,  and  informed  the 


The   Obsequies  in    Washington. 


11 


servant  who  admitted  him  that  he  desired  to  see  Mr.  Sevrard.  The  servant 
responded  that  Mr.  Seward  was  very  ill,  and  that  no  visitors  were  admitted. 
"  But  1  am  a  messenger  from  T)y.  Verdi,  Mr.  Seward's  physician ;  I  have 
a  prescription  which  1  must  deliver  to  him  myself."  The  servant  still  de- 
murring, the  stranger,  without  further  parley,  pushed  him  aside  and  as- 
cended the  stairs.  Moving  to  the  right,  he  proceeded  towards  Mr.  Sew- 
ard's room,  and  was  about  to  enter  it,  when  Mr.  Frederick  Seward 
appeared  from  an  opposite  doorway  and  demanded  his  business.  He 
responded  in  the  same  manner  as  to  the  servant  below,  but  being  met  with 
a  refusal,  suddenly  closed  the  controversy^  by  striking  Mr.  Seward  a  severe 
and  perhaps  mortal  blow  across  the  forehead  with  the  butt  of  a  pistol.  As 
the  first  victim  fell,  Major  Seward,  another  and  younger  son  of  the  secretary, 
emerged  from  his  father's  room.  Without  a  word  the  man  drew  a  knife 
and  struck  the  major  several  blows  with  it,  rushing  into  the  chamber  as  he 
did  so  ;  then,  after  dealing  the  nurse  a  horrible  wound  across  the  bowels, 
he  sprang  to  the  bed  upon  which  the  secretary  lay,  stabbing  him  once  in 
the  face  and  neck.  Mr.  Seward  arose  convulsively  and  fell  from  the  bed  to 
the  floor.  Turning  and  brandishing  his  knife  anew,  the  assassin  fled  from 
the  room,  cleared  the  prostrate  form  of  Frederick  Seward  in  the  hall,  de- 
scended the  stairs  in  three  leaps,  and  was  out  of  the  door  and  upon  his 
horse  in  an  instant.  It  is  stated  by  a  person  who  saw  him  mount  that, 
although  he  leaped  upon  his  horse  with  most  unseemly  haste,  he  trotted 
away  around  the  corner  of  the  block  with  circumspect  deliberation. 

Around  both  the  house  on  Tenth  street  and  the  residence  of  Secretary 
Seward,  as  the  fact  of  both  tragedies  became  generally  known,  crowds  soon 
gathered  so  vast  and  tumultuous  that  military  guards  scarcely  sufficed  to 
keep  them  from  the  doors. 

The  room  to  which  the  President  had  been  conveyed  is  on  the  first  floor, 
at  the  end  of  the  hall.  It  is  only  fifteen  feet  square,  with  a  Brussels  car- 
pet, papered  with  brown,  and  Jjung  with  a  lithograph  of  Rosa  Bonheur's 
"  Horse  Fair,"  an  engraved  copy  of  Herring's  "  Village  Blacksmith,"  and 
two  smaller  ones  of  "  The  Stable"  and  "  The  Barn  Yard,"  from  the  same 
artist.  A  table  and  bureau,  spread  with  crotchet  work,  eight  chairs  and 
the  bed,  were  all  the  furniture.  Upon  this  bed,  a  low  walnut  four-poster, 
lay  the  dying  President ;  the  blood  oozing  from  the  frightful  wound  in  his 
head  and  staining  the  pillow.  All  that  the  medical  skill  of  half  a  dozen 
accomplished  surgeons  could  do  had  been  done  to  prolong  a  life  evidently 
ebbing  from  a  mortal  hurt. 

Secretary  Stanton,  just  arrived  from  the  bedside  of  Mr.  Seward,  asked 
Surgeon-General  Barnes  what  was  Mr.  Lincoln's  condition.  "  I  fear,  Mr. 
Stanton,  that  there  is  no  hope."  "  O,  no,  general ;  no,  no  ;"  and  the  man, 
of  all  others,  apparently  strange  to  tears,  sank  down  beside  the  bed,  the 
hot,  bitter  evidences  of  an  awful  sorrow  trickling  through  his  fingers  to  the 
floor.  Senator  Sumner  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bed,  holding  one  of 
the  President's  hands  in  his  own,  and  sobbing  with  kindred  grief.  Secre- 
tary Welles  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  his  face  hidden,  his  frame  shaken 
with  emotion.  General  Halleck,  Attorney-General  Speed,  Postmaster- 
General  Dennison,  M.  B.  Field,  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  Judge 
Otto,  General  Meigs,  and  others,  visited  the  chamber  at  times,  and  then 
retir-ed.  Mrs.  Lincoln — but  there  is  no  need  to  speak  of  her.  Mrs.  Sena- 
tor Dixon  soon  arrived,  and  remained  with  her  through  the  night.  All 
through  the  night,  while  the  horror-stricken  crowds  outside  swept  and 
gathered  along  the  streets,  while  the  military  and  police  were  patrolling 
and  weaving  a  cordon  around  the  city  ;  while  men  were  arming  and  ask 


u 


'A 


III 


12  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

ing  each  other,  "  What  victim  next?"  while  the  telegraph  was  sending  the 
news  from  city  to  city  over  the  continent,  and  while  the  two  assassins 
were  speeding  unharmed  upon  fleet  horses  far  away — his  chosen  friends 
watched  about  the  death-bed  of  the  highest  of  the  nation.  Occasionally 
Dr.  Gurley,  pastor  of  the  church  where  Mr.  Lincoln  habitually  attended, 
knelt  down  in  prayer.  Occasionally  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  her  sons,  entered,  to 
find  no  hope  and  to  go  back  to  ceaseless  weeping.  Members  of  the  cabi- 
net, senat(jrs,  representatives,  generals,  and  others,  took  turns  at  the  bed- 
side. Chief-Justice  Chase  remained  until  a  late  hour,  and  returned  in  the 
morning.  Secretary  McCuUoch  remained  a  constant  watcher  until  5  a.  m. 
Not  a  gleam  of  consciousness  shone  across  the  visage  of  the  President  up 
to  his  death — a  quiet,  peaceful  death  at  last — which  came  at  twenty-two 
minutes  past  seven  a.  m.  Around  the  bedside  at  this  time  were  Secreta- 
ries Stanton,  Welles,  Usher,  Attorney-General  Speed,  Postmaster-General 
Dennison,  M.  B.  Field,  Assistant  Secratary  of  the  Treasury,  Judge  Otto, 
Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  General  Halleck,  General  Meigs, 
Senator  Sumner,  F.  R.  Andrews,  of  New- York,  General  Todd,  of  Dacotah, 
John  Hay,  private  secretary.  Governor  Oglesby,  of  Illinois,  General 
Farnsworth,  Mrs.  and  Miss  Kenny,  Miss  Harris,  Captain  Robert  Lincoln, 
son  of  the  President,  and  Drs.  E.  W.  Abbott,  R.  K.  Stone,  C.  D.  Gatch, 
Neal  Hall,  and  Leiberman.  Rev,  Dr.  Gurley,  after  the  event,  knelt  with 
all  around  in  prayer,  and  then,  entering  the  adjoining  room  where  v/ere 
gathered  Mrs.  Lincoln,  Captain  Robert  Lincoln,  Mr.  John  Hay,  and  others, 
prayed  again.  Soon  after  9  o'clock  the  remains  were  placed  in  a  tempora- 
ry coffin  and  conveyed  to  the  White  House  under  a  small  escort. 

In  Secretary  Seward's  chamber,  a  similar  although  not  so  solemn  a 
soene  prevailed;  between  that  chamber  and  the  one  occupied  by  President 
Lincoln,  visitors  alternated  to  and  fro  through  the  night.  It  had  been 
early  ascertained  that  the  wounds  of  the  secretary  were  not  likely  to  prove 
mortal.  A  wire  instrument,  to  relieve  the*  pain  which  he  suffered  from 
previous  injuries,  prevented  the  knife  of  the  assassin  from  striking  too 
deep.  Mr.  Frederick  Seward's  injuries  were  more  serious.  His  forehead 
was  broken  in  by  the  blow  from  the  pistol,  and  up  to  this  hour  he  has  re- 
mained perfectly  unconscious.  The  operation  of  trepanning  the  skull  has 
been  performed,  but  little  hope  is  had  of  his  recovery.  Major  Seward 
will  get  well.     Mr.  Ilansell's  condition  is  somewhat  doubtful. 

Secretary  Seward,  who  cannot  speak,  was  not  informed  of  the  assassina- 
tion of  the  President,  and  the  injury  of  his  son,  until  yesterday.  He  had 
been  worrying  as  to  why  Mr.  Lincoln  did  not  visit  him.  "  Why  does'nt 
the  President  come  to  see  me  ?"  he  asked  with  his  pencil.  "  Where  is 
Frederick — what  is  the  matter  with  him  ?"  Perceiving  the  nervous  ex- 
citement which  these  doubts  occasioned,  a  consultation  was  had,  at  which 
it  was  finally  determined  that  it  would  be  best  to  let  the  secretary  know 
the  worst.  Secretary  Stanton  was  chosen  to  tell  him.  Sitting  down  be- 
side Mr.  Seward's  bed,  yesterday  afternoon,  he  therefore  related  to  him  a 
full  account  of  the  whole  affair.  Mr.  Seward  was  so  surprised  and  shocked 
that  he  raised  one  hand  involuntarily,  and  groaned.  Such  is  the  condition 
of  affairs  at  tnis  stage  of  the  terror.  The  pursuit  of  the  assassins  has  com- 
menced ;  the  town  is  full  of  wild  and  baseless  rumors  ;  much  that  is  said 
is  stirring ,  little  is  reliable.  I  tell  it  to  you  a."*  I  get  it,  but  filncy  is  more 
prolific  than  truth  :  be  patient ! 

[The    fftcU  above  had  been  collected  by  Mr.   Jerome  B.  Stillson,  before  xaj  arnval 
in  Wimhiugtou :  the  arrangeiucut  of  them  is  laj  own. J 


The  Obsequies  in    Washington.  13 

LETTER     II. 
THE  OBSEaUIES  IN  WASHINGTON. 

Washington,  April  19,  (Evening). 

The  most  significant  and  most  creditable  celebration  ever  held  in  Wash- 
mgton  has  just  transpired.  A  good  ruler  has  been  followed  from  his  home 
to  the  Capitol  by  a  grand  cortege,  worthy  of  the  memory  and  of  the 
nation's  power.  As  description  must  do  injustice  to  the  extent  of  the  dis- 
play, so  must  criticism  fail  to  sufficiently  commend  its  perfect  tastefulness. 
Karely  has  a  Republican  assemblage  been  so  orderly.  The  funeral  of  Mr. 
Lincoln  is  something  to  be  remembered  for  a  cycle.  It  caps  all  eulogy 
upon  his  life  and  services,  and  was,  without  exception,  the  most  representa- 
tive, spontaneous,  and  remarkable  testimonial  ever  rendered  to  the  remains 
of  an  American  citizen. 

The  night  before  the  funeral  showed  the  probable  character  of  the  cortege. 
At  Wiliard's  alone  four  hundred  applications  by  telegraph  for  beds  were 
refused.  As  many  as  six  thousand  persons  spent  Tuesday  night  in  the 
streets,  in  depots  and  in  outbuildings.  The  population  of  the  city  this 
morning  was  not  far  short  of  a  hundred  thousand,  and  of  these  as  many  as 
thirty  thousand  walked  in  procession  with  Mr.  .Lincoln's  ashes. 

All  orders  of  folks  were  at  hand.  The  country  adjacent  sent  in  hay- 
wagons,  donkey-carts,  dearborns.  All  who  could  slip  away  from  the  army 
came  to  town,  and  every  attainable  section  of  the  Union  forwarded 
mourners.  At  no  time  in  his  life  had  Mr.  Lincoln  so  many  to  throng 
about  him  as  in  this  hour,  when  he  is  powerless  to  do  any  one  a  service. 
For  once  in  history,  office-seekers  were  disinterested,  and  contractors  and 
hangers-on  human.  These  came,  for  this  time  only,  to  the  capital  of  the 
republic  without  an  axe  to  grind  or  a  curiosity  to  subserve ;  respect  and 
grief  were  all  their  motive.  This  day  was  shown  that  tKe  great  public 
heart  beats  unselfish  and  reverent,  even  after  a  dynasty  of  plunder  and 
war. 

The  arrangements  for  the  funeral  were  made  by  Mr.  Harrington,  Assist- 
ant-Secretary of  the  Treasury,  who  was  beset  by  applicants  for  tickets. 
The  number  of  these  were  reduced  to  six  hundred,  the  clergy  getting  sixty 
and  the  press  twenty.  I  was  among  the  first  to  pass  the  White  House 
guards  and  enter  the  building. 

Its  freestone  columns  were  draped  in  black,  and  all  the  windows  were 
funereal.  The  ancient  reception-room  was  half  closed,  and  the  famous 
East  room,  which  is  approached  by  a  spacious  hall,  had  been  reserved  for 
the  obsequies.  There  are  none  present  hei-e  but  a  few  silent  attendants  of 
the  late  owner  of  the  republican  palace.  Deeply  ensconced  in  the  white 
satin  stuffing  of  his  coffin,  the  President  lies  like  one  asleep.  The  broad, 
high,  beautiful  room  is  like  the  varnished  interior  of  a  vault.  The  fres- 
coed ceiling  wears  the  national  shield,  some  pointed  vases  filled  with  flowers 
and  fruit,  and  three  emblazonings  of  gilt  pendant  from  which  are  shroudea 
chandeliers.  A  purplish  gray  is  the  prevailing  tint  of  the  ceiling.  The 
cornice  is  silver'white,  set  off*  by  a  velvet  crimson.  The  wall  paper  is  gold 
and  red,  broken  by  eight  lofty  mirrors,  which  are  chastely  margined  with 
black  and  faced  with  fleece. 

Their  imperfect  surfaces  reflect  the  lofty  catafalque,  an  open  canopy  of 
solemn  alapaca,  lined  with  tasteful  satin  of  creamish  lead,  looped  at  the 
curving  roof  and  dropping  t<»  the  four  corners  in  half  transparent  tapestry. 
Beneath  the  roof  the  half  light  shines  upon  a  stage  of  fresh  and  fragrant 


:iL 


14  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

flowers,  up-bearing  a  long,  high  coffin.  White  lace  of  pure  silver  pendant 
from  the  border  throws  a  mild  shimmer  upon  the  solid  silver  tracery 
hinges  and  emblazonings.  A  cross  of  lilies  stands  at  the  head,  an  anchor 
of  roses  at  the  foot.  The  lid  is  drawn  back  to  show  the  face  and  bosom, 
and  on  the  coffin  top  are  heather,  precious  flowers,  and  sprigs  of  green. 
This  catafalque,  or  in  plain  words,  this  coffin  set  upon  a  platform  and 
canopied,  has  around  it  a  sufficient  space  of  Brussels  carpet,  and  on  three 
sides  of  this  there  are  raised  steps  covered  with  black,  on  which  the 
honored  visitors  are  to  stand. 

The  fourth  side  is  bare,  save  of  a  single  row  of  chairs  some  twenty  in 
number,  on  which  the  reporters  are  to  sit.  The  odor  of  the  room  is  fresh 
and  healthy;  the  shade  is  solemn,  without  being  oppressive.  All  is  rich, 
simple,  and  spacious,  and  in  such  sort  as  any  king  might  wish  to  lie. 
Approach  and  look  at  the  dead  man. 

Death  has  fastened  into  bis  frozen  face  all  the  character  and  idiosyncrasy 
of  life.  He  has  not  changed  one  line  of  his  grave,  grotesque  countenance, 
nor  smoothed  out  a  single  feature.  The  hue  is  rather  bloodless  and  leaden  ; 
but  he  was  alway  sallow.  The  dark  eyebrows  seem  abruptly  arched  ;  the 
beard,  which  will  grow  no  more,  is  shaved  close,  save  the  tuft  at  the  short 
small  chin.  The  mouth  is  shut,  like  that  of  one  who  had  put  the  foot 
down  firm,  and  so  are  the  eyes,  which  look  as  calm  as  slumber.  The  collar 
is  short  and  awkward,  turned  over  the  stiff  elastic  cravat,  and  whatever 
energy  or  humor  or  tender  gravity  marked  the  living  face  is  hardened  into 
its  pulseless  outline.  No  corpse  in  the  world  is  better  prepared  according 
to  appearances.  The  white'satin  around  it  reflects  sufficient  light  upon  the 
face  to  show  us  that  death  is  really  there ;  but  there  are  sweet  roses  and 
early  magnolias,  and  the  balmiest  of  lilies  strewn  around,  as  if  the  flowers 
had  begun  to  bloom  even  upon  his  coffin.  Looking  on  uninterruptedly  ! 
for  there  is  no  pressure,  and  henceforward  the  place  will  be  thronged  with 
gazers  who  will  take  from  the  sight  its  suggestiveness  and  respect.  Three 
years  ago,  when  little  Willie  Lincoln  died.  Doctors  Brown  and  Alexander, 
the  embalmers  or  injectors,  prepared  his  body  so  handsomely  that  the 
President  had  it  twice  disinterred  to  look  upon  it.  The  same  men,  in  the 
same  way,  have  made  perpetual  these  beloved  lineaments.  There  is  now 
no  blood  in  the  body ;  it  was  drained  by  the  jugular  vein  and  sacredly  pre- 
served, and  through  a  cutting  on  the  inside  of  the  thigh  the  empty  blood- 
vessels were  charged  with  a  chemical  preparation  which  soon  hardened  to 
the  consistence  of  stone.  The  long  and  bony  body  is  now  hard  and  stifle, 
so  that  beyond  its  present  position  it  cannot  be  moved  any  more  than  the 
arms  or  legs  of  a  statue.  It  has  undergone  many  changes.  The  scalp  hiis 
been  removed,  the  brain  taken  out,  the  chest  opened  and  the  blood  emptied. 
All  that  we  see  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  so  cunningly  contemplated  in  this 
splendid  coffin,  is  a  mere  shell,  an  effigy,  a  sculpture.  He  lies  ir  sleep, 
but  it  is  the  sleep  of  marble.  AH  that  made  this  flesh  vital,  sentient,  and 
affectionate  is  gone  forever. 

The  officers  present  are  Generals  Hunter  and  Dyer  and  two  staflf"  cap- 
tains. Hunter,  compact  and  dark  and  reticent,  walks  about  the  empty 
chamber  in  full  uniform,  his  bright  buttons  and  sash  and  sword  contrasting 
with  his  dark  blue  uniform,  gauntlets  upon  his  hands,  crape  on  his  arm  and 
blade,  his  corded  hat  in  his  hands,  a  paper  collar  just  apparent  above  his 
velvet  tips,  and  now  and  then  he  spealLs  to  Captain  Nesmith  or  Captain 
Dewes,  of  General  Harding's  staff",  rather  as  one  who  wishes  company  than 
one  who  has  anything  to  SF.y.  His  two  silver  stars  upon  his  shoulder  shine 
Aiasdy  in  the  draped  apartmftnt.     He  was  one  of  the  first  in  the  war  to 


Tlie   Obsequiet  at   Washington.  15 

urge  the  measures  which  Mr.  Lincoln  afterward  adopted.  The  aids  walk 
to  and  fro,  selected  without  reference  to  any  association  with  the  late  Pres- 
ident. Their  clothes  are  rich,  their  swords  wear  mourning,  they  go  in 
silence,  everything  is  funereal.  In  the  deeply-draped  mirrrors  strange 
mirages  are  seen,  as  in  the  coffin  scene  of  "  Lucretia  Borgia,"  where  all  the 
dusky  perspectives  bear  vistas  of  gloomy  palls.  The  upholsterers  make 
timid  noises  of  driving  nails  and  spreading  tapestry ;  but  save  ourselven 
and  these  few  watchers  and  workers,  only  the  dead  is  here.  The  White 
House,  so  ill-appreciated  in  common  times,  is  seen  to  be  capacious  and  ele- 
gant— no  disgrace  to  the  nation  even  in  the  eyes  of  those  foreign  folk  of 
rank  who  shall  gather  here  directly. 

As  we  sit  brooding,  with  the  pall  straight  before  us,  the  funeral  guns  arc 
heard  indistinctly  booming  from  the  far  forts,  with  the  tap  of  drums  in  the 
serried  street  without,  where  troops  and  citizen's  are  forming  for  the  grand  pro- 
cession. We  see  through  the  window  in  the  beautiful  spring  day  that  the 
grass  is  brightly  green ;  and  all  the  trees  in  blossom,  show  us  through  their 
archways  the  bronze  and  marble  statues  breaking  the  horizon.  But  there 
is  one  at  an  upper  window,  seeing  all  this  through  her  tears,  to  whom  tho 
beautiful  noon,  with  its  Wealth  of  zephyrs  and  sweets,  can  waft  no  gratula- 
tion.  The  father  of  her  children,  the  confidant  of  her  affection  and  ambi- 
tion, has  passed  from  life  into  immortality,  and  lies  below,  dumb,  cold, 
murdered.  The  feeling  of  sympathy  for  Mrs.  Lincoln  is  as  wide-spread  as 
the  regret  for  the  chief  magistrate.  Whatever  indiscretions  she  may  have 
committed  in  the  abrupt  transition  from  plainness  to  power  are  now  for- 
given and  forgotten.  She  and  her  sons  are  the  property  of  the  nation, 
associated  with  its  truest  glories  and  its  worst  bereavement.  By  and  by 
the  guests  drop  in,  hat  in  hand,  wearing  upon  their  sleeves  waving  crape, 
and  some  of  them  slip  up  to  the  coffin  to  carry  away  a  last  impression  of 
the  fadinjj  face. 

But  the  first  accession  of  force  is  that  of  the  clergy,  sixty  in  number. 
They  are  devout  looking  men,  darkly  attired,  and  have  come  from  all  the 
neighboring  cities  to  represent  every  denomination.  Five  years  ago  these 
were  wrangling  over  slavery  as  a  theological  question,  and  at  the  beginning 
of  the  war  it  was  hard,  in  many  of  their  bodies,  to  carry  loyal  resolutions. 
To-day  there  are  here  such  sincere  mourners  as  Robert  Pattison,  of  the 
Methodist  church,  who  passed  much  of  his  life  among  slaves  and  masters. 
He  and  the  rest  have  come  to  believe  that  the  President  was  wise  and 
right,  and  follow  him  to  his  grave,  as  the  apostles  the  interred  on  calvary. 
All  these  retire  to  the  south  end  of  the  room,  facing  the  feet  of  the 
corpse,  and  stand  there  silently  to  wait  for  the  coming  of  others.  Very 
soon  this  East  room  is  filled  with  the  representative  intelligence  of  the 
entire  nation.  The  governors  of  states  stand  on  the  dais  next  to  the  head 
of  the  coffin,  with  the  varied  features  of  Curtin,  Brough,  Fenton,  Stone, 
Oglesby  and  Ingraham.  Behind  them  are  the  mayors  and  councilmen  of 
many  towns  paying  their  last  respects  to  the  representative  of  the  source 
of  all  municipal  freedom.  To  their  left  are  the  corporate  officers  of  Wash- 
ington, zealous  to  make  this  day's  funeral  honors  atone  for  the  shame  of  the 
assassination.  With  these  are  sprinkled  many  scarred  and  worthy  soldiers 
yrho  have  borne  the  burden  of  the  grand  war,  and  stand  before  this  shape 
they  loved  in  quiet  civil  reverence. 

Still  further  down  the  steps  and  closer  to  the  catafalque  rest  the  familiar 
faces  of  many  of  our  greatest  generals — the  manly  features  of  Augur, 
whose  blood  I  have  seen  trickling  forth  upon  the  field  of  battle ;  the  open 
almost  bftardlfts«5  contour  of  Haiieek,  who  has  often  talked  of  seiges  and 


V\ 


16  Tht  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture,  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

campaigns  with  this  homely  gentleman  who  is  going  to  the  grave.  There 
are  many  more  bright  stars  twinkling  in  contiguous  shoulder  bars,  but  sit- 
ting in  a  chair  upon  the  beflowered  carpet  is  Ulysses  Grant,  who  has  lived 
a  century  in  the  last  three  weeks  and  comes  to-day  to  add  the  luster  of  his 
iron  face  to  this  thrilling  and  saddened  picture.  He  wears  white  gloves  and 
sash,  and  is  swarthy,  nervous,  and  almost  tearful,  his  feet  crossed,  his 
square  receding  head  turning  now  here  now  there,  his  treble  constellation 
blazing  upon  the  letl  shoulder  only,  but  hidden  on  the  right,  and  I  seem  to 
read  upon  his  compact  features  the  indurate  and  obstinate  will  to  fight,  on 
the  line  he  has  selected,  the  honor  of  the  country  through  any  peril,  as  if 
he  had  sworn  it  by  the  slain  man's  bier — his  state-fellow,  patron,  and 
friend.  Here  also  is  General  McCallum,  who  has  seamed  the  rebellious 
South  with  military  roads  to  send  victory  along  them,  and  bring  back  the 
groaning  and  the  scarred.  These  and  the  rest  are  grand  historic  figures, 
worthy  of  all  artistic  depiction.  The_y  nave  looked  so  often  into  the  mor- 
tar's mouth,  that  no  bravo's  blade  can  make  them  wince.  Do  you  see  the 
thin-haired,  conical  head  of  the  viking  Farragut,  close  by  General  Grant, 
with  many  naval  heroes  close  behind,  storm-beaten,  and  every  inch  Ameri- 
cans in  thought  and  physiognomy  1 

What  think  the  foreign  ambassadors  of  such  men,  in  the  light  of  their 
own  overloaded  bodies,  where  meaningless  orders,  crosses,  and  ribboaa 
shine  dimly  in  the  funeral  light?  These  legations  number,  perhaps,  a  hun- 
dred men,  of  all  civilized  races, — the  Sardinian  envoy,  jetty-eyed,  towering 
above  the  rest.  But  they  are  still  and  respectful,  gathered  thus  by  a  slain  ■ 
ruler,  to  see  how  worthy  is  the  republic  he  has  preserved.  Whatever 
sympathy  these  have  for  our  institutions,  I  think  that  in  such  audience  they 
must  have  been  impressed  with  the  futility  of  any  thought  that  either  one 
citizen  right  or  one  territorial  inch  can  ever  be  torn  from  the  United  StJtes.  ' 
Not  to  speak  disparagingly  of  these  noble  guests,  1  was  struck  with  the 
superior  facial  energy  of  our  own  public  servants,  who  were  generally 
larger,  and  brighter-faced,  born  of  that  aristocracy  which  took  its  patent 
from  Tubal  Cain,  and  Abel  the  goatherd,  and  graduated  in  Abraham  Lin- 
coln. The  Haytien  minister,  swarthy  and  fiery -faced,  is  conspicuous 
among  these. 

But  nearer  down,  and  just  opposite  the  catafalque  so  that  it  is  perpen- 
dicular to  the  direction  of  vision,  stand  the  central  powers  of  our  govern- 
ment, its  President  and  counsellors.  President  Johnson  is  facing  the  middle 
of  the  coffin  upon  the  lowest  step ;  his  hands  are  crossed  upon  his  breast, 
his  dark  clothing  just  revealing  his  plaited  shirt,  and  upon  his  full,  plethoric, 
shaven  face,  broad  and  severely  compact,  two  telling  gray  eyes  rest  under 
a  thoughtful  brow,  whose  turning  hair  is  straight  and  smooth.  Beside  him 
are  Vice-President  Hamlin,  whom  he  succeeded,  and  ex-Governor  King,  his 
most  intimate  friend,  who  lends  to  the  ruling  severity  of  the  place  a  half 
Falstaftian  episode.  The  cabinet  are  behind,  as  if  arranged  for  a  daguer- 
reotypist,  Stanton,  short  and  quicksilvery,  in  long  goatee  and  glasses,  in 
stunted  contrast  to  the  tall  and  snow-tipped  shape  of  Mr.  Welles  with  the 
rest,  practiciil  and  attentive,  and  at  their  side  is  Secretary  Chase,  high,  dig- 
nified, and  handsome,  with  folded  arms,  listening,  but  undemonstrative,  a 
half  foot  higher  than  any  spectator,  and  dividing  with  Charles  Sumner,  who 
is  near  by,  the  preference  for  manly  beauty  in  age.  With  Mr.  Chase  are 
other  justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  to  their  left,  near  the  feet  of  the 
corpse,  are  the  reverend  senators,  representing  the  oldest  and  the  newest 
states — splendid  faces,  a  little  worn  with  early  and  later  toils,  backed  up 
by  the  high,  classical  features  of  Colonel  Forney,  their  secretary.     Beyond 


The   Obsequies  at   Washington.  17 

are  the  representatives  and  leading  officials  of  the  various  departments, 
with  a  few  odd  folks  like  George  Prancis  Train,  exquisite  as  ever,  and,  for 
this  time  only,  with  nothing  to  say. 

Close  by  the  corpse  sit  the  relatives  of  the  deceased,  plain,  -honest, 
hardy  people,  rypical  as  much  of  the  simplicity  of  our  institutions  as  of 
Mr.  Lincoln's  self-made  eminence.  No  blood  relatives  of  Mr.  Lincoln 
■were  to  be  found.  It  is  a  singular  evidence  of  the  poverty  of  his  origin, 
and  therefore  of  his  exceeding  good  report,  that,  excepting  his  immediate 
family,  none  answering  to  his  name  could  be  discovered.  Mrs.  Lincoln's 
relatives  were  pi-esent,  however,  in  some  force.  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  Todd, 
General  John  B.  S.  Todd,  C.  M.  Smith,  Esq.,  and  Mr.  N.  \V.  Edwards, 
the  late  President's  brother-in-law,  plain,  self-made  people  were  here  and 
were  sincerely  atfected.  Captain  Robert  Lincoln  sat  during  the  services 
with  his  face  in  his  handkerchief  weeping  quietly,  and  litt|.e  Tad  his  face 
red  and  heated,  cried  as  if  his  heart  would  break.  Mrs.  Lincoln,  weak, 
worn,  and  nervous,  did  not  enter  the  East  room  nor  follow  the  remains. 
She  was  the  chief  magistrate's  lady  yesterday  ;  to-day  a  widow  bearing 
only  an  immortal  name.  Among  the  neighbors  of  the  late  President,  who 
came  from  afar  to  pay  respect  to  his  remains,  was  one  old  gentleman  who 
left  Richmond  on  Sunday.  I  had  been  upon  the  boat  with  him  and  heard 
him  iir  hot  wrangle  with  some  officers  who  advised  the  summary  execution 
of  all  rebel  leaders.  This  the  old  man  opposed,  when  the  feeling  against 
Bim  became  so  intense  that  he  was  compelled  to  retire.  He  counselled 
mercy,  good  faith,  and  forgiveness.  To-day,  the  men  who  had  called  him  a 
traitor,  saw  him  among  the  family  mourners,  bent  with  grief.  All  these 
are  waiting  in  solemn  lines,  standing  erect,  with  a  space  of  several  feet  be- 
tween them  and  the  coffin,  and  there  is  no  bustle  nor  unseemly  curiosity, 
not  a  whisper,  not  a  footfall — only  the  collected  nation  looking  with  awed 
hearts  upon  eminent  death. 

This  scene  is  historic.  I  regret  that  I  must  tell  you  of  it  ovev  a  little 
wire,  for  it  admits  of  all  exemplification.  In  this  high, -spacious,  elegant 
apartment,  yfaughter  and  levee,  social  pleasantry  and  refined  badinage,  had 
often  held  their  session.  Dancing  and  music  had  made  those  mirrors  thrill 
which  now  reflect  a  pall,  and  where  the  most  beautiful  women  of  their  day 
had  mingled  here  with  men  of  brilliant  favor,  now  only  a  very  few,  brave 
enough  to  look  upon  deaj;h,  were  wearing  funeral  weeds.  The  pleasant 
face  of  Mrs.  Kate  Sprague  looks  out  from  these  ;  but  such  scenes  gain  little 
additional  power  by  beauty's  presence.  And  this  wonderful  relief  was 
carved  at  one  blow  by  John  Wilkes  Booth. 

The  religious  services  began  at  noon.  They  were  remarkable  not  only 
for  their  association  with  the  national  event,  but  for  a  tremendous  political 
energy  Vhich  they  had.  While  none  of  the  prayers  or  speeches  exhibited 
great  literary  carefulness,  or  will  obtain  perpetuity  on  their  own  merits, 
they  were  full  of  feeling  and  expressed  all  the  intense  concern  of  the 
country. 

The  procession  surpassed  in  sentiment,  populousness,  and  sincere  good 
feeling,  anything  of  the  kind  we  have  had  in  America.  It  was  several  miles 
long,  and  in  all  its  elements  was  full  and  tasteful.  The  scene  on  the  avenue 
will  be  alway  remembered  as  the  only  occasion  on  which  that  great  thorough- 
fare was  a  real  adornment  to  the  seat  of  government.  In  the  tree  tops,  on 
the  house  tops,  at  all  the  windows,  the  silent  and  affected  crowds  clustered 
beneath  half  mast  banners  and  waving  crape,  to  reverentially  uncover  as 
the  dark  vehicle,  bearing  its  rich  silver-mounted  coffin,  swept  along ;  mot^ 
toes  of  respect  ftnd  honiage  were  on  many  edifices,  and  singularly  some  of 
2 


18  The  Life,  Crime  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

them  were  taken  from  the  play  of  Richard  III.,  which  was  the  murderers 
favorite  part.  The  entire  width  of  the  avenue  was  swept,  from  curb  to 
curb,  by  the  deep  lines. 

The  chief  excellence  of  this  procession  was  its  representative  nature.  All 
classes,  localities  and  trades  were  out.  As  the  troops  in  broad,  straight 
.-olumns,  with  reversed  muskets,  moved  to  solemn  marches,  all  the  guns  on* 
the  fortifications  on  the  surrounding  hills  discharged  hoarse  salutes— guns 
which  the  arbiter  of  war  whom  they  were  to  honor  could  hear  no  longer. 
Every  business  place  was  closed.  Sabermen  swept  the  street  of  footmen 
and  horsemen.     The  carriages  drove  two  abreast. 

Not  less  than  five  thousand  officers,  of  every  rank,  marched  abreast  with 
the  corte<Te.  They  were  noble  looking  men  with  intelligent  faces,  and  rep- 
resented 'the  sinews  of  the  land,  and  the  music  was  not  the  least  excellent 
feature  of  the#nournful  display.  About  thirty  bands  were  in  the  line,  and 
these  played  all  varieties  of  solemn  marches,  so  that  there  were  continual 
and  mingling  strains  ef  funeral  music  for  more  than  three  hours.  Artillery, 
consistino-  of  heavy  brass  pieces,  followed  behind.  In  fact,  all  the  citizen 
virtues  a'lid  all  the  military  enterprise  of  the  country  were  evidenced. 
Never  attain,  until  Washington  becomes  in  fact  what  it  is  in  name,  the  chief 
city  of  America,  shall  we  have  a  scene  like  this  repeated— the  grandest  pro- 
cession ever  seen  on  this  continent,  spontaneously  evoked  to  celebrate  the 
foulest  crime  on  record.  If  any  feeling  of  gratulation  could  arise  in  so  cala- 
mitous a  time,  it  would  be,  that  so  soon  after  this  appalling  calamity  the 
nation  calmly  and  collectedly  rallied  about  its  succeeding  rulers,  and  showed 
in  the  same  moment  its  regret  for  the  past  and  its  resolution  for  the  future. 
To  me,  the  scene  in  the  White  House,  the  street,  and  the  capitol  to-day, 
Avas  the  strongest  evidence  the  war  afforded  of  the  stability  of  our  mstitu- 
tions,  and  the  worthiness  and  magnanimous  power  of  our  people. 

The  cortege  passed  to  the  left  side  of  the  Capitol,  and  entering  the  great 
gates,  passed  to  the  grand  stairway,  opposite  the  splendid  dome,  where  the 
coffin  was  disengaged  and  carried  up  the  ascent.  It  was  posted  under  the 
bright  concave,  now  streaked  with  mournful  trappings,  and  left  in  state, 
watched  by  guards  of  officers  with  drawn  swords.  This  was  a  wonderful  spec- 
tacle, the  man  most  beloved  and  honored  in  the  ark  of  the  republic.  The 
storied  paintings  representing  eras  in  its  history  were  draped  in  sable, 
through  which  they  seemed  to  cast  reverential  glances  upon  the  lamented 
bier.  \he  thrilling  scenes  depicted  by  Trumbull,  the  commemorative  can- 
vase's  of  Leutze,  th°e  wilderness  vegetation  of  Powell,  glared  from  their  sep- 
erate  pedestals  upon  the  central  spot  where  lay  the  fallen  majesty  of  the 
countrv.  Here  the  prayers  ^nd  addresses  of  the  noon  were  rehearsed  and 
the  solemn  burial  service  read.  At  nigjit  the  jets  of  gas  concealed 
in  the  spring  of  the  dome  were  lighted  up,  so  that  their  bright  reflection 
upon  the  frescoed  walls  hurled  m^isses  of  'burning  light,  like  marvelous 
haloes,  upon  the  little  box  where  somach  that  we  love  and  honor  rested  on 
its  way  to  the  grave.  And  so  through  the  starry  night,  in  the  fane  of  the 
great  Union  he  had  strengthened  and  recovered,  the  ashes  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  zealously  guarded,  are  now  reposing.  The  sage,  the  citizen,  the 
patriot,  the  man,  has  reached  all  the  eminence  that  life  can  give  the  worthy 
or  the  ambitious.  The  hunted  fugitive  who  struck  through  our  hearts  to 
slay  him,  should  stand  beside  his  stately  bier  to  see  how  powerless  are 
bullets  and  blades  to  take  the  real  life  of  any  noble  man  ! 


The  Murderer.  19 

LETTERIII. 
THE  MURDERER,. 

Wasi&njoton,  April  27tli. 

Justice  is  satisfied,  though  blinder  vengeance  may  not  be.  While  the 
illustrious  murdered  is  on  the  way  to  the  shrine,  the  stark  corpse  of  his 
murderer  lies  in  the  shambles.  The  one  died  quietly,  like  his  life;  the 
other  died  tightins:,  like  his  crime.  And  now  that  over  all  of  them  the 
darkness  and  the  dewliave  descended,  the  populace,  which  may  not  be  all 
satisfied,  may  perhaps  be  calmed.  No  triumphal  mourning  can  add  to  the 
President's  glory ;  no  further  execration  can  disturb  the  assiissin's  slum- 
bers. They  have  gone  for  what  they  were  into  history,  into  tradition,  into 
the  hereafter  both  of  men  and  spirits  ;  aud  what  they  were  may  be  in  part 
concluded.  Mr.  Lincoln's  career  passes,  in  extent,  gravity,  and  eventful 
association,  the  province  of  newspaper  biography ;  but  Booth  is  the  hero 
of  a  single  deed,  and  the  delineation  of  him  may  begin  and  be  exhausted 
in  a  single  article.  I  have  been  at  pains,  since  the  day  of  the  President's 
obsequies,  to  collect  all  valid  information  on  the  subject  of  his  assassin, 
in  anticipation  of  the  latter's  capture  and  death.  Now  that  these  have 
been  consummated,  I  shall  print  this  biography. 

The  elder  Booth  in  every  land  was  a  sojourner,  as  all  his  fathers  were. 
Of  Hebrew  descent,  and  by  a  line  of  actors,  he  united  in  himself  that  strong 
Jewish  physiognomy  which,  in  its  nobler  phases,  makes  all  that  is  dark  and 
beautiful,  and  the  combined  vagrancy  of  all  men  of  genius  and  all  men  of 
the  stage.  Fitful,  powerful,  passionate,  his  life  was  a  succession  of  vices 
and  triumphs.  He  mastered  the  intricate  characters  of  dramatic  literature 
bv  intuition,  rather  than  by  study,  and  produced  them  with  a  vigor  and 
vividness  which  almost  passed  the  depicting  of  real  life.  The  stage  on 
which  he  raved  and  fought  became  as  historic  as  the  actual  decks  of  battle 
ships,  and  his  small  and  brawny  figure  c»mes  down  to  us  in  those  parox- 
ysms of  delirious  art,  like  that  of  Harold,  or  Richard,  or  Prince  Rupert, 
He  drank  to  excess,  was  profligate  but  not  generous,  required  but  not  re- 
liable, and  licentious  to  the  bounds  of  cruelty.  He  threw  off  the^^ife  of 
his  bosom  to  fly  from  England  with  a  flower-girl,  and,  settling  in  Balti- 
more, dwelt  with  his  younger  companion,  and  brought  up  many  children, 
while  his  first^possessed  went  down  to  a  drunken  and  broken-hearted  death'. 
He  himself,  wandering  westward,  died  on  the  way,  errant  and  feverish, 
even  in  the  closing  moments.  His  widow,  too  conscious  of  her  predeces- 
sor's wrongs,  and  often  taunted  with  them,  lived  apart,  frugal  and  discreet, 
and  brought  her  six  children  up  to  honorable  maturity.  These  were 
Junius  Brutus,  Edwin  Forrest  (though  he  drops  the  Forrest  for  professional 
considerations),  John  Wilkes,  Joseph,  and  the  girls.  All  of  the  boys  are 
known  to  more  or  less  of  fame ;  none  of  them  in  his  art  has  reached  the 
renowh  of  the  father;  but.  one  has  sent  his  name  as  far  as  that  of  the  great 
plavwright  to  whom  they  were  pupils ;  wherever  Shakspeare  is  quoted, 
John  Wilkes  Booth  will  be  named,  and  infamously,  like  that  Hubert  in 
"  King  John,"  who  would  have  murdered  the  gentle  Prince  Arthur. 

It  may  not  be  a  digression  here  to  ask  what  has  become  of  the  children 
of  the  •weird  genius  I  have  sketched  above.  Mrs.  Booth,  against  whom 
calumnv  has  had  no  word  to  say,  now  resides  with  her  daughters  in  Nine- 
teenth street,  New-York.  John  S.  Clarke  dwells  in  princely  style  in  Phil 
adelphia,  with  the  daughter  whom  he  married  ;  he  is  the  business  partner 
of  Edwin  Booth,  and  they  are  likely  to  become  as  powerful  managers  as 


y 


iW 


» 
4V 


20  The  Life,    Crime,  and   Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

they  have  been  successful  "stars."  Edwhi  Booth,  who  is  said  to  have  the 
most  perfect  physical  head  in  America,  and  whom  the  hidies  call  the  beau 
ideal  of  the  inelanchuly  Dane,  dwells  also  on  Nineteenth  street.  He  has 
acquired  a  fortune,  a(^  is,  without  doubt,  a  frankly  loyal  gentleman.  He 
could  not  well  be  otherwise  from  his  membership  in  the  Century  Club, 
where  literature  and  loyalty,  are  never  dissolved.  Correct  and  pleasing 
without  being  powerful  or  brilliant,  he  has  led  a  plain  and  appreciated 
career,  and  latterly,  to  his  honor,  has  been  awakening  among  dramatic 
authors  some  emulation  by  offering  handsome  compensations  for  original 
plays.  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  the  oldest  of  them  all,  most  resembles  in 
feature  his  wild  and  wayward  father ;  he  is  not  as  good  an  actor  as  was 
Wilkes,  and  kept  in  the  West,  that  border  civilization  of  the  drama;  he 
now  lies,  on  a  serious  charge  of  complicity,  in  Capitol  Hill  jail.  Joseph 
Booth  tried  the  stage  as  an  utility  actor  and  promptly  failed.  The  best  part 
he  ever  had  to  play  Vl-as  Orson  in  the  "  Iri>n  Chest,"  and  his  discomfiture 
was  signal ;  then  he  studied  medicine  but  grew  discouraged,  and  is  no\v'*in 
California  in  an  office  of  some  sort.  A  son  of  Booth  by  his  first  wife  be- 
came a  first-class  lawyer  in  Boston.  He  never  recognized  the  rest  of  the 
family.  Wilkes  Booth,  the  third  son,  was  shot  dead  on  Wednesday  for 
attempting  to  escape  from  the  consequences  of  murder.  Such  are  the 
people  to  whom  one  of  the  greatest  actors  of  our  time  gave  his.  name  and 
lineaments.     But  I  have  anticipated  the  story  : 

Although  her  family  was  large,  it  was  not  so  hard  sailiag  with  Mrs.  Ro- 
salie Booth  as  may  be  inferred.  Her  husband's  gains  had  been  variably  ■ 
great,  and  they  owned  a  farm  of  some  value  near  Baltimore.  The  boys 
had  plain  but  not  sufficient  schooling,  though  by  the  time  John  Wilkes 
grew  up  Edwin  and  Junius  were  making  some  little  money  aiid  helping 
the  family.  So  Wilkes  was  sent  to  a  better  school  than  they,  where  he 
made  some  eventful  acquaintances.  One  of  these  won  his  admiration  as 
much  in  the  playground  as  in  subsequent  life  upon  the  field  of  battle ;  this 
was  Fitzhujjh  Lee,  son  of  the  great  rebel  chieftain.  1  have  not  heard  that 
Lee  ever  had  any  friendship  for  young  Wilkes,  but  his  port  and  name 
were  enough  to  excite  a  less  ardent  imagination — the  son  of  a  soldier  al- 
ready great,  and  a  descendant  of  Washington.  Wilkes  Booth  has  often  , 
spoken  of  the  memory  of  the  young  man,  envied  his  success,  and,  perhaps, 
boasted  of  more  intimacy  than  he  ever  had.  The  exemplars  of  young 
Wilkes,  it  was  soon  seen,  were  anything  but  literary.  He  hated  school 
and  pent-up  life,  and  loved  the  open  air.  He  used  to  stroll  ofi'  to  fish, 
though  that  sort  of  amusement  was  too  sedentary  for  his  nature,  but  went 
on  fowling  jaunts  with  enthusiasm.  In  these  latter  he  manifested  that  fine 
nerve,  and  certain  eye,  which  was  the  talk  of  all  his  associates ;  but  his 
greatebi  love  was  the  stable.  He  learned  to  ride  with  his  first  pair  of 
boots,  fviid  hung  around  the  grooms  to  beg  permission  to  take  the  nags  to 
water.  He  grew  in  later  life  to  be  both  an  indurated  and  a  graceful 
horseman.  Toward  his  mother  and  sisters  he  was  affectionate  without 
be;ng  obedient.  Of  all  the  sons,  Wilkes  was  the  most  headstrong  in-doors, 
and  the  most  contented  away  from  home.  He  had  a  fitful  gentleness 
which  won  him  forgiveness,  and  of  one  of  his  sisters  he  was  particularly 
fond,  but  none  had  influence  over  him.  He  was  seldom  contentious,  but 
obstinately  bent,  and  what  he  willed,  he  did  in  silence,  seeming  to  discard 
sympathy  or  confidence.  As  a  boy  he  was  never  bright,  except  in  a  boy's 
sense;  tiiat  is,  he  could  run  and  leap  well,  fight  when  challenged,  and  gen- 
erally fell  in  with  the  sentiment  of  the  crowd.     He  therefore  made  :i:any 


,«|  The  Murderer.  21 

ODmpanions,  ai.d  his  early  days  all  passed  between  Baltimore  city  and  the 
adjacent  farm. 

I  have  heard  it  said  as  the  only  evidence  of  Booth's  ferocity  in  those 
early  times  that  he  was  alwa\!>  snooting  cats,  and  killed  off  almost  the 
entire  breed  in  his  neighbourhood.  But  on  more  than  one  occasion  he  ran 
away  from  both  school  and  home,  and  once  made  the  trip  of  the  Chesa- 
peake to  the  oyster  fisheries  without  advising  anybody  of  his  family. 

Yv'hile  yet  very  young,  Wilkes  Booth  became  an  habitue  at  the  theater. 
Ilis  traditions  and  tastes  were  all  in  that  direction.  His  blood  was  of  the 
stage,  like  that  of  the  Keans,  the  Kembles,  and  the  Wallacks.  He  would 
not  commence  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder  and  climb  from  round  to  round, 
nor  take  part  in  more  than  a  few  Thespian  efforts.  One  night,  howe\er,  a 
young  actoi',  wh«  was  to  have  a  benefit  and  wished  to  fill  the  house,  re- 
solved for  the  better  purpose  to  give  Wilkes  a  chance.  He  announced 
that  a  son  of  the  great  Booth  of  tradition,  would  enact  the  part  of  Rich- 
mond, and  the  announcement  was  enough.  Before  a  crowded  place,  Booth 
played  so  badly  that  he  was  hissed.  Still  holding  to  his  gossamer  hopes 
atid  high  conceit,  Wilkes  induced  John  S.  Clarke,  who  was  then  addressing 
his  sister,  to  obtain  him  a  position  in  the  company  of  the  Arch  Street 
Theater  at  Philadelphia. 

For  eight  dollars  a  week,  Wilkes  Booth,  at  the  agt,  rf  twenty-two,  con- 
tracted with  William  Wheatley  to  play  in  any  piece  cr  part  for  which  he 
might  be  cast,  and  to  appear  every  day  at  rehearsal.  He  had  to  play  the 
Courier  in  Sheridan  Knowles's  "  Wife"  on  his  first  night,  with  five  op  ten 
little  speeches  to  make  ;  but  such  was  his  nervousness  that  he  blundered 
continually,  and  quite  balked  the  piece.  Soon  afterward  he  undertook  the 
part  of  one  of  th^  Venetian  comrades  in  Hugo's  "  Lucretia  Borgia,"  and 
was  to  have  said  in  his  turn — 

'  Madame,  I  am  Petruchio  Pandolfo  ;"  instead  of  which  he  exclaimed: 

"  Madame,  I  am  Pondolfio  Pet — ,  Pedolfio  Pat — ,  Pantuchio  Ped — ; 
damn  it  ?  what  am  I  ?" 

The  audience  roared,  and  Booth,  though  full  of  chagrin,  was  compelled 
to  laugh  with  them. 

The  very  next  night  he  was  to  play  Dawson,  an  important  part  in 
Moore's  tragedy  of  "  The  Gamester."  He  had  bought  a  new  dress  to  wear 
on  this  night,  and  made  abundant  preparation  to  do  himself  honor.  He 
therefore  invited  a  lady  whom  he  knew  to  visit  the  theater,  and  witness  his 
triumph.  But  at  the  instant  of  his  appearance  on  the  stage,  the  audience, 
remembering  the  Petruchio  Pandolfo  of  the  previous  nig'  .,  Durst  into 
laughter,  hisses,  and  mock  applause,  so  that  he  was  struck  dumb,  and 
stood  rigid,  with  nothing  whatever  to  say.  Mr.  John  Dolman,  to  wh-,oe 
Stukely  he  played,  was  compelled,  therefore,  to  strike  Dawson  entirely  out 
of  the  piece. 

These  occurrences  nettled  Booth,  who  protested  that  he  studied  fiiithfully 
but  that  his  want  of  confidence  ruined  him.  Mr.  Fredericks  the  stage 
manager  made  constant  complaints  of  Booth,  w^ho  by  the  way,  did  not 
play  under  his  full  name,  but  as  Mr.  J.  Wilkes — and  he  bore  the  general 
reputation  of  having  no  promise,  and  being  a  careless  fellow.  He  asso- 
ciated freely  with  such  of  the  subordinate  actors  as  he  liked ;  but  being, 
through  Clarke,  then  a  rising  fiivourite,  of  better  connections,  might,  had 
he  chosen,  advanced  himself  socially,  if  not  artistically.  Clarke  was  to 
have  a  benefit  one  evening,  and  to  enact,  among  other  things,  a  mock 
Richard  III.,  to  which  he  allowed  Wilkes  Booth  to  play  a  real  Richmond. 
On    this  occasion,  for   the   first   time,  Booth    showed   some   energy,  and 


/ 


ii2  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

obtain  some  applause.  But,  in  general,  he  was  stumbling  and  worthless. 
I  myself  remember,  on  three  consecutive  nights,  hearing  him  trip  up  and 
receive  suppressed  hisses.  lie  lacked  enterprise  ;  other  young  actors,  in- 
stead of  waiting  to  be  given  better  parts,  committed  them  to  memory,  in 
the  hope  that  their  real  interpreter  might  not  come  to  hand.  Amc^ng  these 
I  recall  John  McCullough,  who  afterwards  became  quite  a  celebrated 
actor.  He  was  getting,  if  I  correctly  remember,  only  six  dollars  a  week, 
while  Booth  obtained  eight.  Yet  Wilkes  Booth  seemed  too  slow  or  indif- 
ferent to  get  on  the  weather  side  of  such  chances.  He  still  held  the  part 
of  third  walking  gentleman,  and  the  third  is  always 'the  first  to  be  walked 
off  in  case  of  strait,  as  was  Wilkes  Booth.  He  did  not  survive  forty 
weeks  engagement,  nor  make  above  three  hundred  dollars  in  all  that  time. 
The  Kellers  arrived  ;  they  cut  down  the  company,  and  they  dispensed  with 
Wilkes  Booth.  He  is  remembered  iu  Philadelphia  by  his  failure  as  in  the 
world  by  his  crime. 

About  this  time  a  manager  named  Kunkle  gave  Booth  a  salary  of  twenty 
dollars  a  week  to  go  to  the  Richmond  Theater.  There  he  played  a  higher 
order  of  parts,  and  played  them  better,  winning  applauses  from  the  easy 
provincial  cities,  and  taking,  as  everywhere  the  ladies  by  storm.  I  have 
never  wondered  why  many  actors  were  strongly  predisposed  toward  the 
South.  There,  their  social  status  is  nine  times  as  big  as  with  us.  The  hos- 
pitable, lounging,  buzzing  character  of  the  southerner  is  entirely  consonant 
with  the  cosmopolitanism  of  the  stage,  and  that  easy  "  hang-up-your-hat- 
ativeness,"  which  is  the  rule  and  the  demand  in  Thespianship.  We  place 
actors  outside  of  society,  and  execrate  them  because  they  are  there.  The 
South  took  them  into  affable  fellowship,  and  was  not  ruined  by  it,  "but  be 
loved  by  the  fraternity.  Booth  played  two  seasons  in  Richmond,  and  left 
in  some  esteem. 

When  the  John  Brown  raid  occured.  Booth  left  the  Richmond  Theater 
for  the  scene  of  strife  in  a  picked  company  with  which  he  had  affiliated  for 
some  time.  From  his  connection  with  the  militia  on  this  occasion  he  was 
Wont  to  trace  his  fealty  to  Virginia.  He  was  a  non-commissioned  officer, 
and  remained  at  Charleston  till  after  the  execution,  visiting  the  old  pike- 
man  in  jail,  and  his  company  was  selected  to  form  guard  around  the  scaf- 
fold when  John  Brown  weiit,  white-haired,  to  his  account.  There  may  be 
in  this  a  consolation  for  the  canonizers  of  the  first  arm-bearer  between 
the  sections,  that  one  whose  unit  swelled  the  host  to  crush  out  that  brave 
old  life,  to-^k  from  the  scene  inspiration  enough  to  slay  a  merciful  President 
in  his  unsusp».cting  leisure.  Booth  never  referred  to  John  Brown's  death 
in  bravado ;  possibly  at  that  gallows  began  some  such  terrible  purpose  as 
he  afterward  consummated. 

It  was  close  upon  the  beginning  of  the  war  when  Booth  resolved  to 
transform  himself  from  a  stock  actor  to  a  "  star."  As  many  will  read  this 
who  do  not  understand  such  distinctions,  let  me  preface  it  by  explaining 
that  a  "  star"  is  an  actor  who  belongs  to  no  one  theater,  but  travels  from 
each  to  all,  playing  a  few  weeks  at  a  time,  and  sustained  in  his  chief  char- 
acter ])y  the  regular  or  stock  actors.  A  stock  actor  is  a  good  actor,  and  a 
poor  fool.  A  star  is  an  advertisement  in  tights,  who  grows  rich  and  cor 
rupts  the  public  taste.  Booth  was  a  star,  and  being  so,  had  an  agent.  The 
agent  is  a  trumpeter  who  goes  on  before,  writing  the  impartial  notices  which 
^  you  see  in  the  editorial  columns  of  country  papers  and  counting  noses  at 
the  theater  doors.  Booth's  agent  was  one  ^latthew  Canning,  an  exploded 
Philadelphia  lawyer,  who  took  to  managing  by  passing  the  bar,  and, J. 
Wilkes  no  longei,  but  our  country's  rising  tragedian.  J.  Wilkes  Booth, 


Th«  Murderer.  23 

0{>enod  in  Montgomery,  Alabama,  in  his  father's  consecrated  part  of  Richard 
III.  It  w;is  very  ditferent  work  between  receiving  eight  dollars  a  week 
and  getting  half  the  gross  proceeds  of  every  performance.  Booth  kept 
northward  when  his  engagment  was  done,  playing  in  many  cities  such 
parts  as  Romeo,  the  Corsican  Brothers,  and  Raphael  in  the  "  Marble  Heart ;" 
in  all  of  these  he  gained  applause,  and  his  journey  eastward,  ending  in  east- 
ern cities  like  Providence,  Portland,  and  Boston  was  a  long  success,  in  part 
deserved.  lu  Boston  he  received  especial  commendation  for  his  enactment 
of  Richard. 

I  have  looked  over  this  play,  his  best  and  favopite  one,  to  see  how  close- 
ly the  career  of  the  crookback  he  so  often  delineated  resembled  his  own. 

How  like  that  fearful  night  of  Richard  on  Bosworth  Held  must  have 

been  Booth's  sleep  in  the  barn  at  Port  Royal,  tortured  by  ghosts  of  victims 

all  repeating. 

"  When  I  was  mortal  my  anointed  body 
By  thee  was  punched  full  of  deadly  holes: 
Think  ou  the  Tower  and  me  1     Despair  and  die  1" 

Or  this,  from  some  of  Booth's  female  victims  : 

"  Let  me  sit  heavy  on  thy  sonl  to-morrow  ! 
I  that  was  washed  to  death  with  fulsome  wine  ; 
Poor  Clarence,  by  thy  guile  betrayed  to  death: 
To-morrow  in  the  battle  think  on  me  ;  despair  and  die  1" 

These  terrible  conjurations  must  have  recalled  how  aptly  the  scene  so 
often  rehearsed  by  Booth,  sword  in  hand,  where,  leaping  from  his  bed,  he 
cries  in  horror : 

"  Give  me  another  horse !  bind  np  my  wounds  1 
Have  mercy,  Jesu  !     Soft  1  I  did  but  dream. 
Oh  !  coward  conscience  how  thou  dost,  afflict  me  I 
The  lights  burn  blue.     It  is  now  dead  midnight  I  , 

'  Cold,  nareful  drops  stand  on  my  trembling  flesh, 

"What  do  I  fear?     Myself?  there  is  none  else  by  : 
Is  there  a  murderer  here  ?    No  I — Ye* ! — I  am  I 
Then  fly, — wliat  from  myself? 
******* 

My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale, 
And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villain! 
Perjury,  perjury  in  the  highest  degree  : 
Murder,  stern  murder  in  the  direst  degree  : 
All  several  sins,  all  used  in  each  degree, 
Throng  to  the  bar,  crying  all,  Guilty  !  guilty .'" 

By  these  starring  engagments.  Booth  made  incredible  sums.  His  cash- 
book,  for  one  single  season,  showed  earnings  dsposited  in  bank  of  twenty- 
two  odd  thousand  dollars.  In  New  York  he  did  not  get  a  hearing,  except 
at  a  benefit  or  two  :  where  he  played  parts  not  of  his  selection.  In  Phila- 
delphia his  earlier  failure  predisposed  the  people  to  discard  him,  and  they 
did.  But  he  had  made  enough,  and  resolved  to  invest  his  winnings,  The 
oil  fever  had  just  begun;  he  hired  an  agent,  sent  him  to  the  western  dis- 
tricts and  gave  him  discretionary  power ;  his  investments  all  turned  out 
profitable. 

Booth  died,  as  far  as  understood  without  debts.  The  day  before  the  mur- 
der he  paid  an  old  friend  a  hundred  dollars  which  he  had  borrowed  two  days 
previously.  He  banked  at  Jay  Cook's  in  Washington,  generally ;  but 
turned  most  of  his  funds  into  stock  and  other  matters.  He  gave  eighty 
dollars  eight  month's  ago  for  a  part  investing  with  others  in  a  piece  of 


S4  Tke  Life,  Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

western  oil  land.  The  certificate  for  this  land  he  gave  to  his  sister.  Just 
before  he  died  his  agent  informed  him  that  the  share  was  worth  fifteen 
thousand  dollars.  Booth  kept  his  accounts  latterly  with  great  regularity, 
and  was  lavish  as  ever,  but  took  note  of  all  expenditures,  however  irregu- 
lar. He  was  one  of  those  men  whom  the  possession  of  money  seems  to 
have  energized  ;  his  life,  so  purposeless  long  before,  grew  by  good  fortune 
to  a  strict  computation  with  the  world.  Yet  what  availed  so  sudden  refor- 
mation, and  of  what  use  was  the  gaining  of  wealth,  to  throw  one's  life  so  soon 
away,  and  leap  from  competence  to  hunted  infamy. 

The  beauty  of  this  mi«i  and  his  easy  confidentiality,  not  familiar,  but 
marked  by  a  mild  and  even  dignity,  made  many  women  impassioned  of 
him.  He  was  licentious  as  men,  and  particularly  as  actors  go,  but  not  a  se- 
ducer, so  far  as  I  can  learn.  I  have  traced  one  case  in  Philadelphia  where 
a  young  girl  who  had  seen  him  on  the  stage  became  enamored  of  him. 

She  sent  him  bouquets,  notes,  photographs  and  all  the  accessories  of  an 
intrigue.  Booth,  to  whom  such  things  were  common,  yielded  to  the  girl's 
importunities  at  last  and  gave  her  an  interview.  He  was  surprised  to  find 
that  so  bold  a  correspondent  was  so  young,  so  fresh,  and  so  beautiful.  He 
told  her  therefore,  in  pity,  the  consequences  of  pursuing  him;  that  he  en- 
tertained no  affection  for  her,  though  a  sufficient  desire,  and  that  he  was  a 
man  of  the  world  to  whom  all  women  grew  fulsome  in  their  turn. 

"  Go  home,"  he  said,  "  and  beware  of  actors.  They  are  to  be  seen,  not 
to  be  known." 

The  girl,  yet  more  infatuated,  persisted.  Booth,  who  had  no  real  vir- 
tue except  by  scintillations,  became  what  he  had  promised,  and  one  more 
soul  went  to  the  isles  of  Cyprus. 

In  Montgomery,  if  I  do  not  mistake.  Booth  met  the  woman  from  whom 
he  received  a  stab  which  he  carried  all  the  rest  of  his  days.  She  was  an 
actress,  and  he  visited  her.  They  assumed  a  relation  creditable  only  in  La 
Boheme,  and  were  as  tender  as  love  without  esteem  can  ever  be.  But,  after 
a  time,  Booth  wearied  of  her  and  offered  to  say  "  good  by."  She  re- 
fused— he  treated  her  coldly ;  she  pleaded — he  passed  her  by. 

Then,  with  a  jealous  woman's  frenzy,  she  drew  a  knife  upon  him  and 
stabbed  him  in  the  neck,  with  the  intent  to  kill  him.  Being  muscular,  he 
quickly  disarmed  her,  though  he  afterward  suffered  from  the  wound  poign- 
antly. 

Does  it  not  bring  a  blush  to  our  faces  that  a  good,  great  man,  like  he  who 
has  died — our  President^should  have  met  his  fate  from  one  so  inured  to 
a  life  of  ribaldry  ?  Yet,  only  such  an  one  could  have  been  found  to  mur- 
der Abraham  Lincoln. 

The  women  persecuted  Booth  more  than  he  followed  them.  He  was 
waylaid  by  married  women  in  every  provincial  town  or  city  where  he 
played.  His  face  was  so  youthful,  yet  so  manly,  and  his  movements  so 
graceful  and  excellent,  that  other  than  the  coarse  and  errant  placed  them- 
selves in  his  way.  After  his  celebrated  Boston  engagement,  women  of  all 
ages  and  degrees  pressed  in  crowds  before  the  Tremont  House  to  see  him 
depart.  Their  motives  were  various,  but  whether  curiosity  or  worse,  ex- 
hibiting plainly  the  deep  influence  which  Booth  had  upon  the  sex.  He 
could  be  anywhere  easy  and  gentlemanly,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  wonder  that 
with  the  entry  which  he  had  to  many  well-stock*ed  homes,  he  did  not  make 
hospitality  mcjurn  and  friendship  find  in  his  visit  shame  and  ruin.  I  have 
not  space  to  go  into  the  millionth  catalogue  of  Booth's  intrigues,  even  if 
this  journal  permitted  further  elucidation  of  so  banned  a  subject.     Most 


77ie  Murderer. 


25 


of  his  adherents  of  this  class  were,  like  Heine's  Polish  virgins,  and  he  was 
very  popular  with  those  dramatic  ladies — few,  I  hope  and  know,  in  their 
profession — to  whom  divorce  courts  are  superfluous.  His  last  permanent 
acquaintance  was  one  Ella  Turner,  of  Richmond,  who  loved  him  with  all 
the  impetuosity  of  that  love  which  does  not  think,  and  strove  to  die  at  the 
tidings  of  his  crime  and  fight.  Happy  that  even  such  a  woman  did  not  die 
associated  with  John  Wilkes  Booth.  Such  devotion  to  any  other  murder- 
er would  have  earned  some  poet's  tear.  But  the  daisies  will  not  grow  a 
whole  rod  from  his  grave. 

Of  what  avail,  may  we  ask,  on  the  impossible  supposition  that  Booth's 
crime  could  have  been  considered  heroic,  was  it  that  such  a  record  should 
have  dared  to  die  for  fame  ?  Victory  would  have  been  ashamed  of  its  cham- 
pion, as  England  of  Nelson,  and  Franc*  of  Mirabeau. 

I  may  add  to  this  record  that  he  had  not  been  in  Philadelphia  a  year, 
on  first  setting  out  in  life,  before  getting  inli  a  transaction  of  the  kind  spe- 
cified. For  an  alWur  at  his  boarding-house  he  was  compelled  to  pay  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money,  and  it  happily  occurred  just  as  he  was  to  quit  the 
city.  He,  had  many  quarrels  and  narrow  escapes  through  his  license,  a 
husband  in  Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  ouce  followed  hiim all  the  way  to  Cleveland  to 
avenge  a  domestic  insult. 

Booth's  paper  "  To  Whom  it '  may  Concern"  was  not  his  only  attempt 
at  influential  composition.  He  sometimes  persuaded  himself  that  he  had 
literary  ability ;  but  his  orthography  and  pronunciation  were  worse  than 
his  syntax.  The  paper  deposited  with  J.  S.  Clarke  was  useful  as  showing 
his  power  to  entertain  a  deliberate  purpose.  It  has  one  or  two  smart  pas- 
sages in  it — =as  this  : 

"  Our  once  bright  red  stripes  look  like  bloody  gashes  on  the  face  of 
heaven." 

In  the  passages  following  there  is  common  sense  and  lunacy  : 

"  I  know  how  foolish  1  shall  be  deemed  for  undertaking  such  a  step  as 
this,  where,  on  the  one  side,  I  have  many  friends  and  everything  to  make 
me  happy,  where  my  profession  alone  has  gained  me  an  income  of  more 
than,  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  where  my  great  personal a7nbition 
in  my  profession  has  such  a  great  field  for  labor.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
South  have  ne^er  bestowed  upon  me  one  kind  word  ;  a  place  now  where  I 
have  no  friends,  except  beneath  the  sod  ;  a  place  where  I  must  either  be- 
come a  private  soldier  or  a  beggar.  To  give  up  all  of  the  former  for  the 
fe^^er,  besides  my  mother  and  sisters,  whom  I  love  so  dearly  (although  they 
80  widely  diifer  witli  me  in  opinion)  seems  insane ;  but  God  is  my 
juda;e." 

Now,  read  the  beginning  of  the  manifesto,  and  see  how  prophetic  were 
his  words  of  his  coming  infimy.  If  he  expected  so  much  for  capturing  the 
President  merely,  what  of  our  execration  at  slaying  him  ? 

"  Right  or  wr(jng,  God  judge  me,  not  man.  For  be  my  motive  good  or 
bad,  of  one  thing  1  am  sure,  the  lasting  condemnation  of  the  North. 

"  I  love  peace  more  than  life.  Have  loved  the  Union  beyond  expression. 
For  four  years  have  I  waited,  hoped  and  prayed  for  the  dark  clouds  to 
break,  and  for  a  restoration  of  our  former  sunshine.  To  wait  longer  woula 
be  a  crime..  All  hope  for  peace  is  dead.  My  prayers  have  proved  as  idle 
as  my  hopes.  God's  will  be  done.  /  go  to  see  and  share  the  bitter 
end:' 

To  wait  longer  would  be  a  crime.  Oh  !  what  was  the  crime  not  to  wait ! 
Had  he  only  shared  the  bitter  end,  then,  in  the  common  trench,  his  mt-m- 


26  ■  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

ory  might  have  been  hidden.  The  end  had  come  when  he  appeared  *,o  make 
of  beuigriuiit  victory  a  quenchless  revenge.  One  more  selection  I'rom  his 
apostrophe  will  do.     It  suggests  the  manner  of  his  death  : 

"  They  say  that  the  South  has  found  that  'last  ditch'  which  the  North 
have  so  long  derided.     Should  I  reach  her  in  safety,  and  find  it  true,  I  will  " 
proudly  beg  permission  to  triumph  or  die  in  that  same  'ditch'  by  her  side." 
The  swamp  near  which  he  died  may  be  called,  without  unseemly  pun — a 
truth,  not  a  ban  viot — the  last  ditch  of  the  rebellion. 

None  of  the  printed  pictuz-es  that  I  have  seen  do  justice  to  Booth.  Some 
of  the  cartes  de  visite  get  him  very  nearly.  He  had  one  of  the  finest  vital 
heads  I  have  ever  seen.  In  fact,  he  was  one  of  the  l)est  exponents  of  vital 
beauty  I  have  ever  met.  By  this  I  refer  to  physical  beauty  in  the  Medician 
sense — health,  shapeliness,  power  ii*  beautiful  poise,  and  seemingly  more 
powerful  in  repose  than  in  energy.  His  hands  and  feet  were  s'zable,  not 
small,  and  his  legs  were  stoutlllnd  muscular,  but  inclined  to  bow  like  his 
father's.  From  the  waist  up  he  was  a  perfect  man  ;  his  chest  being  full 
and  broad,  his  shoulders  gently  sloping,  and  his  arms  as  white  as  alabaster, 
but  hard  as  marble.  Over  these,  upon  a  neck  which  was  its  proper  column, 
rose  the  cornice  of  a  fine  Ikjric  face,  spare  at  the  jaws  and  nut  anywhere 
over-ripe,  but  seamed  with  a  nose  of  Roman  model,  the  only  relic  of  his 
half-Jewish  parentage,  which  gave  decision  to  the  thoughtfully  stern  sweep 
of  two  direct,  dark  eyes,  meaning  to  woman  snare,  and  to  man  a  search  war^ 
rant,  while  the  lolly  square  forehead  and  square  brows  were  crowned  with 
a  weight  of  curling  jetty  hair,  like  a  rich  Corinthian  capital.  His  profile 
was  eagleish,  and  afar  his  countenance  was  haughty.  He  seemed  throat 
full  of  introspections,  ambitious  self-examinings,  eye-strides  into  the  future, 
as'if  it  withheld  him  something  to  which  he  had  a  right.  I  have  since  won- 
dered whether  this  moody  demeanor  did  not  come  of  a  guilty  spirit,  but 
all  the  Booths  look  so.  • 

Wilkes  spoke  to  me  in  Washington  for  the  first  time  three  weeks  before 
the  murder.  His  address  was  winning  as  a  girl's,  rising  in  effect  not  from 
what  he  said,  but  from  how  he  said  it.  It  was  magnetic,  and  I  can  des- 
cribe it  therefore  by  its  effects  alone.  I  seemed,  when  he  had  spoken,  to 
lean  toward  this  man.  His  attitude  spoke  to  me ;  with  as  easy  familiarity 
as  I  ever  observed  he  drew  near  and  conversed.  The  talk  was  on  so 
trite  things  that  it  did  not  lie  a  second  in  the  head,  but  whi-n  1  left  him  it 
was  with  the  feeling  that  a  most  agreeable  fellow  had  passed  by. 

The  next  time  the  name  of  Wilkes  Booth  recurred  to  me  was  like  the 
pistol  shot  he  had  fired.  The  right  hand  I  had  shaken  murdered  the  father 
of  the  country. 

Booth  was  not  graceful  with  his  feet,  although  his  ordinai-y  walk  was 
pleasant  enough.  But  his  arms  were  put  to  artistic  uses ;  not  the  baser 
ones  like  boxing,  but  all  sorts  of  fencing,  manual  practice,  and  the  hand- 
ling of  weapons. 

In  his  dress,  he  was  neat  without  being  particular.  Almost  any  clothes 
could  fit  him ;  but  he  had  nothing  of  the  exquisite  about  him  ;  his  neck- 
ties and  all  such  matters  were  good  without  being  gaudy.  Nature  had 
done  much  for  him.  In  this  beautiful  palace  an  outlaw  had  builded  his 
fire,  and  slept,  and  plotted,  and  dreamed. 

I  have  heard  it  said  that  Booth  frequently  cut  his  adversaries  upon  the 
%tage  in  shecir  wantonness  or  bloodthirstiness.  This  is  a  mistake,  and  is 
attributable  to  his  father,  the  elder  Booth,  who  had  the  madiiess  of  con- 
founding hirhself  with  the  character.  Wilkes  was  too  good  a  fencer  to 
make   ugly  gashes ;  his   pride  was  his  skill,  not  his  awkwardness.     Once 


The  Murderer. 


ftr 


tie  was  playing  with  John  McCulIoiigh  in  the  last  act  of  "Richard." 
They  were  fighting  desperately.  Suddenly  the  cross-piece  on  the  hilt  of 
McCulloiigh's»sw(jrd  flew  off"  and  cut  the  owner  deeply  in  the  forehead. 
Blood  ran  down  McCullough's  face,  though  they  continued  to  struggle,  and 
while,  ostensibly,  Booth  was  imitating  a  demon,  he  said  in  a  half  whisper : 

"  Good  God,  John,  did  I  hurt  you  ?" 

And  when  they  went  off  the  stage,  Booth  was  white  with  fear  that  he  had 
gashed  his  friend. 

As  an  actor,  Buoth  was  too  energetic  to  be  correct ;  his  conception  of 
Richard  was  vivid  and  original,  one  of  the  best  that  we  have  had,  and  he 
came  nearer  his  father's  rendering  of  the  last  act  than  any  body  we  have 
had.  His  combat  scene  was  terrific.  The  statement  that  his  voice  had 
failed  has  no  valid  foundation ;  it  was  as  good  when  he  challenged  the 
cavalry-men  to  combat  as  in  the  best  of  his  Thespian  successes.  In  all 
acting  that  required  delicate  characterization,  refined  conception  or  careful- 
ness, Booth  was  at  sea.  But  in  strong  physical  parts,  requiring  fair  read- 
ing and  an  abundance  of  spring  and  tension,  he  was  much  finer  than  hearsay 
would  have  us  believe. 

His  Romeo  was  described  a  short  time  ago  by  the  Washington  Intelli- 
gencer as  the  most  satisfactory  of  all  renderings  of  that  fine  character.  He 
played  the  Corsican  Brothers  three  weeks  on  a  run  in  Boston.  He  played 
Pescara  at  Ford's  Theater — his  last  mock  part  in  this  world — on  to-mor- 
row (Saturday)  night,  six  weeks  ago. 

He  was  fond  of  learning  and  reciting  fugitive  poems.  His  favorite  piece 
was  "The  Beautiful  Snow,"  comparing  it  to  a  lost  purity.  He  has  been 
known  by  gentlemen  in  this  city  to  recite  this  poem  with  fine  effect,  and 
pry  all  the  while.  This  was  on  the  principle  of  "  guilty  people  sitting  at  a 
play."  His  pocket-book  was  generally  full  of  little  selections  picked  up 
at  random,  and  he  had  considerable  delicacy  of  appreciation. 

On  the  morning  of  the  murder,  Booth  breakfasted  with  Miss  Carrie  Bean, 
the  daughter  of  a  merchant,  and  a  very  respectable  young  lady,  at  the 
National  Hall.  He  arose  from  the  table  at,  say  eleven  o'clock.  During 
the  breakfast,  those  who  watched  him  say  that  he  was  lively,  piquant  and 
self-possessed  as  ever  in  his  life. 

That  night  the  horrible  crime  thrilled  the  land.  A  period  of  crippled 
flight  succeeded.  Living  in  swamps,  upon  trembling  hospitality,  upon 
hopes  which  sank  as  he  leaned  upon  them.  Booth  passed  the  nighcs  in 
perilpus  route  or  broken  sleep,  and  in  the  end  went  down  like  a  bravo, 
bu^in  the  eyes  of  all  who  read  his  history,  commanding  no  respect  for  his 
valor,  charity  for  his  motive,  or  sympathy  for  his  sin. 

The  closing   scenes  of  these    terrible  days  are  reserved   for  a   second 


paper.     Much  matter  that  should  have  gone 
present. 


into  this  is  retained  for  tho 


;■;* 


-'JS^'TSx: 


28  Tne^Life,   Crime,  and  Ca2)turi  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

L  E  T  T  E  R     IV. 

THE   ASSASSIN'S    DEATH. 

Washington,  April  28 — 8  p.  m. 
A  hard  and  "rizzly  face  overiooks  me  as  I  write.  Its  inconsiderable 
forehead  is  crowned  with  turning  sandy  hair,  and  the  deep  concave  of  its 
lon<^  insatiate  jaws  is  almost  hidden  by  a  dense  red  beard,  which  can 
not'^stili  abate  the  terrible  decision  of  the  large  mouth,  so  well  sustained 
by  searchiiii(  eyes  of  spotted  gray,  which  roll  and  rivet  one.  This  is  the 
face  of  Lafayette  Hakei-  colonel  and  chief  of  the  secret  service,  lie  has 
played  the  most  periious  jxirts  of  the  war,  and  is  the  capturer  of  the  late 
President's  murderer.  I'he  story  that  I  am  to  tell  you,  as  he  and  his 
trusty  dependents  told  it  to  me,  will  be  aptly  commenced  here,  where  the 
net  was  woven  wnich  took  the  dying  life  of  Wilkes  Booth. 

When  the  murder  occured.  Colonel  Baker  was  absent  from  Washmg- 
ton.  He  returned  on  the  third  morning,  and  was  at  once  besought  by  Sec- 
retary Stanton  to  j<jin  the  hue  and  cry  against  the  escaped  Booth.  ^  The 
sairacious  detective  found  that  nearly  ten  thousand  cavalry,  and  one-fourth 
as^nany  policemen,  had  been  meantime  scom-ing,  without  plan  or  compass, 
the  whole  territory  of  Southern  Maryland.  They  were  treading  on  each 
other's  heels,  and  mixing  up  the  thing  so  confoundedly,  that  the  best 
place  for  the  culprits  to  have  gone  would  have  been  in  the  very  midst  of 
their  pursuers.  Baker  at  once  possessed  himself  of  the  little  the  War 
Department  had  learned,  and  started  immediately  to  take  the  usual  detec- 
tive measures,  till  then  neglected,  of  offering  a  reward  and  getting  out 
photographs  of  the  suspected  ones.  He  then  dispatched  a  few  chosen 
detectives  to  certain  vital  points,  and  awaited  results. 

The  first  of  these  was  the  capture  of  Atzeroth.  Others,  like  the  taking 
of  Dr.  Mudge,  simultaneously  occured.  But  the  district  supected  being 
remote  froin'the  railway  routes,  and  broken  by  no  telegraph  station,  the 
colonel,  to  place  himself  nearer  the  theater  of  events,  ordered  an  opera- 
tor, with  the  necessary  instrument,  to  tap  the  wire  running  to  Point 
Lookout,  near  Chappells  Point,  and  send  him  prompt  messsages. 

The  same  steamer   which  took  down  the  operator  and   two  detectives 
brou<dit  back  one  of  the  same  detectives  and  a  negro.     This  negro,  taken 
to  Colonel  Baker's  olKce,  stated  so  positively  that  he  had  seen  Booth  and 
another  man  cross  the  Potomac  in  a  fishing  boat,  while  he  was  looking  down 
upon  them  fi-om  a  bank,  that  the  colonel  was  at  first  skeptical ;  but  Sifhen 
examined  the  negro  answered  so  readily  and  intelligently,  recognizing  the 
men  from  the  photographs,  that  Baker  knew' at  last  that  he  had  the  true  scent. 
Straightway  he  sent  to  General  Hancock  for  twenty -five  men,  and  while 
tne  order  was  going,  drew  down  his  coast  survey-maps.     With  that  qui^k 
detective  intuition  amounting  almost  to  inspiration.  Fie  cast  upon  the  pro- 
bable route  and  destination  of  the  refugees,  as  well  as  the  point  where  he 
would  soonest  strike  them.     Booth,  he  knew,  would   not  keep  along  the 
coast,  with   frequent   deep  rivers  to  cross,  nor,  indeed,  in  any   direction 
east  of  Richmond,  where  he   was  liable  at  any  time  to  cross  our  hues  of 
occupation ;  nor,  being  lame,  could  he  ride  on  horseback,  so  as  to  place 
himself  very  far  westward  of  his  point  of  debarkation  in  Virg  nia.     But  he 
would  travel  in  a  direct  course  from  Bluff  point,  where  he  crossed  to  East- 
ern Tennessee,  and  this  would  take  him  through  Port  Royal  on  the   Rap- 
pahannock river,  in  time  to  be  intercepted  there  by  the  outgoing  cavalry- 
men. 


The  Assassin^s  Death. 


29 


When,  therefore,  twenty-five  men,  under  one  Lieutenant  Dougherty,  ar- 
rived at  his  office  door,  Baker  phiced  the  whole  under  control  of  his  for- 
mer lieutenant-colonel,  E.  J.  Conger,  and  of  his  cousin,  Lieutenant  L.  B. 
Baker — the  first  of  Ohio,  the  last  of  New-York — and  bade  them  go  with 
all  dispatch  to  Belle  Plain  on  the  Lower  P^otomac,  there  to  disembark,  and 
scour  the  country  faithfully  around  Port  Koyal,  but  not  to  return  unless 
they  captured  their  men. 

Conger  is  a  short,  decided,  indomitable,  courageous  fellow,  provincial  in 
his  manners,  but  fully  understanding  his  business,  and  collected  as  a  house- 
wife on  Sunday.  , 

Young  Baker  is  large  and  fine-looking — a  soldier,  but  no  policeman — 
and  he  deferred  to  Conger,  very  properly,  during  most  of  the  events 
succeeding. 

Quitting  Washington  at  2  o'clock  p.  m.  on  Monday,  the  detectives  and 
cavalrymen  disembarked  at  Belle  Plain,  on  the  border  of  Stafford  county, 
at  10  o'clock,  in  the  darkness.  Belle  Plain  is  simply  the  nearest  landing 
to  Fredericksburg,  seventy  miles  from  Washington  city,  and  located  upon 
Potomac  creek.  It  is  a  wharf  and  warehouse  merely,  and  here  the  steamer 
John  S.  Ide  stopped  and  made  fast,  while  the  party  galloped  off  in  the  dark- 
ness. .  Conger  and  Baker  kept  ahead,  riding  up  to  farm-houses  and  question- 
ing the  inmates,  pretending  to  be  in  search  of  the  Maryland  gentlemen  be- 
longing to  the  party.  But  nobody  had  seen  the  parties  described,  and,  after 
a  futile  ride  on  the  Fredericksburg  road,  they  turned  shortly  to  the  east, 
;iid  kept  up  their  baffled  inquiries  all  the  way  to  Port  Coaway,  on  the  Raj>- 
pahannock. 

On  Tuesday  morning  they  presented  themselves  at  the  Port  Royal  ferry, 
and  inquired  i>f  the  ferry-man,  while  he  was  taking  them  over  in  squads  of 
seven  at  a  time,  if  he  had  seen  any  two  such  men.  Continuing  their  in 
quiries  at  Port  Royal,  they  found  one  Rollins  a  fisherman,  who  referred 
them  to  a  negro  named  Lucas,  as  having  driven  two  men  a  short  distance 
toward  Bowling  Green  in  a  wagon.  It  was  found  that  these  men  answered 
to  the  description.  Booth  having  a  crutch  as  previously  ascertained. 

The  day  before  Booth  and  Harold  had  applied  at  Port  Conway  for  the 
general  ferry-boat,  hat  the  ferryman  was  then  fishing  and  would  not  desist 
for  the  inconsiderable  fare  of  only  two  persons,  but  to  their  supposed 
good  fortune  a  lot  of  confederate  cavalrymen  just  then  came  along,  who 
threatened  the  ferryman  with  a  shot  in  the  head  if  he  did  not  instantly 
bring  across  his  craft  and  ti-ansport  the  entire  party.  These  cavalrymen 
were  of  Moseby's  disbanded  command,  returning  from  Fairfax  Court 
House  to  their  homes  in  Caroline  county.  Their  captain  was  on  his  way 
to  visit  a  sweetheart  at  Bowling  Green,  and  he  had  so  far  taken  Booth  under 
his  patronage,  that  when  the  latter  was  haggling  with  Lucas  for  a  team,  he 
offered  both  Booth  and  Harold  the  use  of  his  horse,  to  ride  and  walk  alter- 
nately. 

Li  this  way  Lucas  was  providentially  done  out  of  the  jbb,  and  Booth 
rode  off'  toward  Bowling  Green  behind  the  confederate  captain  on  one  and 
the  same  horse.  « 

So  much  learned,  the  detectives,  with  Rollins  for  a  guide,  dashed  off  in 
the  bright  daylight  of  Tuesday,  moving  southwestward  thrinigh  the  level 
plains  of  Caroline,  seldom  stopping  to  ask  questions,  save  at  a  certain  half- 
way house,  where  a  woman  told  them  that  the  cavalry  party  of  ye.sterday 
had  returned  minus  one  man.  As  this  was  far  from  circumstantial,  the 
party  rode  along  in  the  twilight,  and  reached  Bowling  Green  at  eleveu 
o'clock  in  the  night. 


/ 


80 


The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 


This  is  the  court-house  town  of  Caroline  county — a  small  and  scattered 
ulace,  having  within  it  an  ancient  tavern,  no  longer  used  inv  other  than 
lutl'Mii"-  purposes  ;  but  here  they  hauled  from  his  bed  the  captain  aforesaid, 
and  l)ade  him  dress  himself.  As  soon  as  he  comprehended  the  matter  he 
became  pallid  and  eagerly  narrated  all  the  facts  in  his  possession.  Booth, 
to  his  knowledge,  was  then  lying  at  the  house  of  one  Garrett,  which  they 
had  passed,  and  Harold  had  departed  the  existing  day  with  the  intention  of 
rejoining  him. 

Talking  this  captain  along  for  a  guide,  the  worn  out  horsemen  retraced, 
thorio-h  some  of  the  men  were  so  haggard  and  wasted  with  travel  that  they 
had  to  be  kicked  into  intelligence  before  they  could  climb  to  their  saddles. 
The  objects  of  the  chase  thus  at  hand,  the  detectives,  full  of  sanguine  pur- 
pose, hurried  the  cortege  so  well  along  that  by  2  o'clock  early  morning,  all 
halted  at  Garrett's  gate.  In  the  pale  moonlight  three  hundred  yards  from 
the  main  road,  to  the  left,  a  plain  old  farmhouse  looked  grayly  through  its 
environino'  locusts.  It  was  worn  and  whitewashed,  aud  two-storied,  and  its 
half-human  windows  glowered  down  upon  the  silent  cavalrymen  like  watch- 
in<>-  owls  which  stood  as  sentries  over  some  horrible  secret  asleep  within. 
The  front  of  this  house  looked  up  the  road  toward  the  Rappahannock,  but 
did  not  face  it,  and  on  that  side  a  long  Virginia  porch  protruded,  where,  in 
the  summer,  among  the  honeysuckles,  the  humming  bird  flew  like  a  visible 
odor.  Nearest  the  main  road,  against  the  pallid  gable,  a  single-storied 
kitchen  stood,  and  there  were  three  other  doors,  one  opening  upon  the  porch, 
one  in  the  kitchen  gable,  and  one  in  the  rear  of  the  farmhouse. 

Dimly  seen  behind,  an  old  barn,  high  and  weather-beaten,  faced  the 
roadside  gate,  for  the  house  itself  lay  to  the  left  of  its  own  lane ;  and 
nestling  beneath  the  barn,  a  few  long  corn-cribs  lay  with  a  cattle  shed  at 
hand.  There  was  not  a  swell  of  the  landscape  anywhere  in  sight.  A  plain 
dead  level  contained  all  the  tenements  and  structures.  A  worm  fence 
stretched  along  the  road  broken  by  two  battered  gate  posts,  and  between 

Plan  of  Garrett's  House. 


3RtEN  "^— MAIN   ROAD-^  "tT'^IV  rC 


A  Door  throu.'h  ^vhicht^K.  dyinp  man  v^.^  broreht.  ^^^P'^'^.^lfXth^'t^^^l; 
fired  C  Spot  In  tho  barn  on  wliich  Booth  stool  D  ^oint  where  Corbctt  ^jcd^ 
I'orch  where  Booth  died.  G  Poor  at  ^^hich  Lieutenant  Baker  knocked.  H  bhcd. 
JT  Kitchen. 


<>■. 


■<•    I   i\M 


The  Assassin's  Death. 


31 


the  road  &nJ  the  house,  the  lane  was  crossed  by  a  second  fence  and  gate. 
The  farm-house  lane,  passing  the  house  front,  kept  straight  on  to  the  barn, 
though  a  second  c;irriage  track  ran  up  to  the  porch. 

It  "was  a  homely  and  primitive  scene  enough,  pastoral  as  any  farm  boy's 
birth-place,  and  had  been  the  seat  of  many  toils  and  endearments.  Young 
wives  had  b^en  brought  to  it,  and  around  its  hearth  the  earliest  cries  of 
infants,  gladdening  mothers'  hearts,*had  made  the  household  jubilant  till 
the  stars  catna  out,  and  were  its  only  sentries,  save  the  bright  lights  at  its 
window-panes  as  of  a  camp-fire,  and  the  suppressed  chorusses  of  the 
domestic  bivouac  within,  where  apple  toasting  and  nut  cracking  and  coun- 
try games  shortened  the  winter  shadows.  Yet  in  this  house,  so  peaceful  by 
moonlight,  murder  had  washed  its  spotted  hands,  and  ministered  to  its 
satiated  appetite.  History — present  in  every  nook  in  the  broad  young 
world — had  stopped  to  make  a  landmark  of  Garrett's  farm. 

In  the  dead  stillness.  Baker  dismounted  and  forced  the  outer  gate ; 
Conger  kept  close  behind  him,  and  the  horsemen  followed  cautiously.  They 
made  no  noise  hx  the  soft  clay,  nor  broke  the  all-foreboding  silence  any- 
where, till  the  second  gate  swung  open  gratingly,  yet  even  then  rtor  hoarse 
nor  shrill  response  came  back,  save  distant  croaking,  as  of  frogs  or  owls, 
or  the  whizz  of  some  passing  night-hawk.  So  they  surrounded  the  pleas- 
ant old  homestead,  each  horseman,  carbine  in  poise,  adjusted  under  the 
grove  of  locusts,  so  as  to  inclose  the  dwelling  •with  a  circle  of  fire.  After 
a  pause.  Baker  rode  to  the  kitchen  door  on  the  side,  and  dismounting,  rap- 
ped and  halloed  lustily.  An  old  man,  in  drawers  and  night-shirt,  hastily 
undrew  the  bolts,  and  stood  on  the  threshold,  peering  shiveringly  into  the 
darkness,  ^ 

Baker  seized  him  by  the  throat  at  once,  and  held  a  pistol  to  his  ear. 
"Who — who  is  it  that  calls  me?"  cried  the  old  man,  "Where  are  the 
men  who  stay  with  you  V  challenged  Baker,  "  If  you  prevaricate  you  are 
a  dead  man !"  The  old  fellow,  who  proved  to  be  the  head  of  the  family, 
■was  so  overawed  and  paralysed  that  he  stammered,  and  shook,  and  said 
not  a  word,  "  Go  light  a  candle,"  cried  Baker,  sternly,  "  and  be  quick 
about  it,"  The  trembling  old  man  obeyed,  and  in  a  moment  the  imper- 
fect rays  flared  upon  his  whitening  hairs  and  bluishly  pallid  face.  Then 
the  question  was  repeated,  backed  up  by  the  glimmering  pistol,  "  where 
are  those  men?'  The  old  man  held  to  the  wall,  and  his  knees  smote  each 


other,     "They  are 


gone. 


he  said.     "  We  hav'n't  got  them  in  the  house. 


I  assure  you  that  they  are  gone."  Here  there  w^ere  sounds  and  whisptir- 
ings  in  the  main  building  adjoining,  and  the  lieutenant  strode  to  the  door. 
A  ludicrous  instant  intervened,  the  old  man's  modesty  outran  his  terror. 
** Don't  go  in  there,"  he  said,  feebly;  '-there  are  women  undressed  in 
there."  "  Damn  the  women,"  cried  Baker ;  "  what  if  they  are  undressed  1 
We  shall  go  in  if  they  haven't  a  rag."  Leaving  the  old  man  in  mute 
astonishment.  Baker  bolted  through  the  door,  and  stood  in  an  assemblage 
:  of  bare  arms  and  night  robes.  His  loaded  pistol  disarmed  modesty  of  its 
delicacy  and  substituted  therefor  a  seasonable  terror.  Here  he  repeated 
his  summons,  and  the  half  light  of  the  candle  gave  to  his  face  a  more  than 
bandit  ferocity.  They  all  denied  knowledge  of  the  strangers'  whereabouts. 
In  the  interim  Conger  had  also  entered,  and  while  the  household  and  its 
invaders  were  thus  in  weird  tableaux,  a  young  man  appeared,  as  if  he  had 
risen  from  the  ground.  The  muzzles  of  everybody  turned  upon  him  in  a 
second ;  but,  while  he  blanched,  he  did  not  lose  loquacity.  "  Father,"  he 
said,  "  we  had  better  tell  the  truth  about  the  matter.     Those  men  whom 


\ 


\ 


32  Tht  -^?/f.    Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

you  seek,  gentlemen,  are  in  the  barn,  I  know.  They  wont  there  t'^  sleep." 
Leavino-  one  soldier  to  guard  the  old  man — and  the  soldier  was  very  glad 
of  the  job,  as  it  relieved  him  of  personal  hazard  in  the  approaching  combat 
— all  the  rest,  with  cocked  pistols  at  the  young  man's  head,  followed  on  to 
the  barn.  It  lay  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  the  front  barndoor 
facing  the  west  gable,  and  was  an  old  and  spacious  structure,  with  floors 
only  a  trifle  above  the  ground  level. 

The  troops  dismounted,  were  stationed  at  regular  intervals  around  it, 
and  ten  yards  distant  at  every  point,  four  special  guards  placed  to  com- 
mand the  door  and  all  with  weapons  in  supple  preparation,  while  Baker 
and  Conger  went  direct  to  the  portal.  It  had  a  padlock  upon  it,  and  the 
key  of  this  Baker  secured  at  once.  In  the  interval  of  silence  that  ensued, 
the  rustling  of  planks  and  straw  was  heard  inside,  as  of  persons  rising 
from  sleep. 

At  the  same  moment  Baker  hailed : 

"  To  the  persons  in  this  barn.  I  have  a  proposal  to  make  ;  we  are  about 
to  send  in  to- you  tlie  son  of  the  man  in  whose  custody  you  are  found. 
Either  surrender  to  him  your  arms  and  then  give  yourselves  up,  or  we'll  set 
fir6*to  the  place.  We  mean  to  take  you  both,  or  to  have  a  boiifire  and  a 
shooting  match," 

No  answer  eume  to  this  of  any  kind.  The  lad,  John  M.  Garrett,  who 
\»as  in  deadly  fear,  was  here  pushed  through  the  door  by  a  sudden  opening 
of  it,  and  iinmediately  Lieutenant  Baker  locked  the  door  on  the  outside. 
The  boy  was  heard  to  state  his  appeal  in  under  tone.     Booth  replied  : 

"  Damn  you.     Get  out  of  here.     You  have  betrayed  me." 

At  the  same  time  he  placed  his  band  in  his  pocket  as  for  a  pistol.  A 
remonstrance  followed,  but  the  boy  slipped  quickly  over  tbe  reopened  por- 
tal, repoiting  that  his  errand  had  failed,  and  that  he  dared  nut  enter  again. 
All  this  time  the  candle  brought  from  the  house  to  the  barn  was  burning 
close  beside  the  two  detectives,  rendering  it  easy  for  any  one  Avithin  to 
have  shot  them  dead.  This  observed,  the  light  was  cautiously  removed, 
and  everybody  took  care  to  keep  out  of  its  reflection.  By  this  time  the 
crisis  of  the  position  was  at  hand,  the  cavalry  exhibited  very  variable  in- 
clinations, some  to  run  away,  others  to  shoot  Booth  without  a  summons,  but 
all  excited  and  fitfully  silent.  At  the  house  near  by  the  female  folks  were 
seen  collected  in  the  doorway,  and  the  necessities  of  the  case  provoked 
prompt  conclusions.  The  boy  was  placed  at  a  remote  point,  and  the  sum- 
mons repeattd  by  Baker : 

"You  must  surrender  inside  there.  Give  up  your  arms  and  appear. 
There  is  no  chance  for  escape.  We  give  you  five  mmutes  to  make  up 
your  mind." 

A  bold,  clarion  reply  came  from  within,  so  strong  as  to  be  heard  at  the 

house  door : 

"  Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want  with  us  f 

Baker  again  urged  :  "  We  want  you  to  deliver  up  your  arms  and  become 
our  prisoners." 

"But  who  are  you?"  hallooed  the  same  strong  voice. 

Baker. "  That  makes  no  difference.     We  know  who  you  are,  and  we 

want  )ou.     We  have  here   fifty  men,  armed  with  carbines  and  pistols. 
You  cannot  escape.'' 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  then  Booth  said : 

"  Captam.  this  is  a  hard  case,  I  swear.  Perhaps  I  am  being  taken  by  my 
own  friends."     No  reply  from  the  detectives. 

P)OOth — "  Well,  give  us  a  little  time  to  consider." 


r    '  m  \  n    ^''1  Tj'rf 'f^ri'FnT*l!ifrF'fi|h,i^  ^  ^^^ 


If  m 


'-p\ 


/ 


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1.  atiiitiiPliBjt!iW'«i*:Jii4iii«!iiiii)siiiiiiia;ii.iiffliiiffl 


■^^^r 


The  Assassiii's  Death.  £5 

\ 

Baker — "  Very  well.     Take  time." 

Here  ensued  a  long  and  eventful  pause.  What  thronging  memories  it 
brought  to  Booth,  we  can  only  guess.  In  this  little  interval  he  made  tha 
resolve  to  die.  But  he  was  cool  and  steady  to  the  end.  Baker,  after  a 
lapse,  hailed  for  the  last  time. 

"  Well,  we  have  waited  long  enough ;  surrender  your  arms  and  come 
out,  or  we'll  fire  the  barn." 

Booth  answered  thus  :  "  I  am  but  a  cripple,  a  one-legged  man.  With- 
draw your  forces  one  hundred  yard  from  the  door,  and  J  will  come.  Give 
me  a  cbmce  for  my  life,  captain.     I  will  never  be  taken  alive." 

Baker — "  We  did  not  come  here  to  fight,  but  to  capture  you.  I  say 
again,  appear,  or  the  barn  shall  be  fired." 

Then  with  a  long  breath,  which  could  be  heard  outside.  Booth  cried  in 
sudden  calmness,  still  invisible,  as  were  to  him  his  enemies : 

"  Well,  then,  my  brave  boys,  prepare  a  stretcher  for  me." 

There  was  a  pause  repeated,  broken  by  low  discussions  within  between 
Booth  and  his  associate,  the  former  saying,  as  if  in  answer  to  some  I'emon- 
strance  or  appeal,  "  Get  away  from  me.  You  are  a  damned  coward,  and 
mean  to  leave  me  in  my  distress ;  but  go,  go.  I  don't  want  you  to  stay. 
I  Won't  have  you  stay."     Then  he  shouted  aloud  : 

"There's  a  man  inside  who  wants  to  surrender." 

Baker — "  Let  him  come,  if  he  will  bring  his  arms." 

Here  Harold,  rattling  at  the  door,  said  :  "  Let  me  out ;  open  the  door ; 
I  want  to  surrender." 

Baker — "  Hand  out  your  arms,  then." 

Harold — "  1  have  not  got  any." 

Baker — "  You  are  the  man  that  carried  the  carbine  yesterday ;  bring  It 
out."  : 

Harold — "  I  haven't  got  any."  / 

This  was  said    in  a  whining   tone,  and  with   an  almost  visible  shiver.  / 

Booth  cried  aloud,  at  this  hesitation  :  "  He  hasn't  got  any  arms  ;  they  are 
mine,  and  I  have  kept  them." 

Baker — Well,  he  carried  the  carbine,  and  must  bring  it  out." 

Booth — "  On  the  word  and  honor  of  a  gentleman,  he  has  no  arms  with 
him.     They  are  mine,  and  I  have  got  them." 

At  this  time  Harold  was  quite  up  to  the  door,  within  whispering  dis- 
tance of  Baker.  The  latter  told  him  to  put  out  his  hands  to  be  handcuffed, 
at  the  same  time  drawing  open  the  door  a  little  distance.  Harold  thrust 
forth  his  hands,  when  Baker,  seizing  him,  jerked  him  into  the  night,  and 
straightway  delivered  him  over  to  a  deputation  of  cavalrymen.  The 
fellow  began  to  talk  of  his  innocence  and  plead  so  noisily  that  Conger 
threatened  to  gag  him  unless  he  ceased.  Then  Booth  made  his  last  appeal, 
in  the  same  clear  unbroken  voice : 

"  Captain,  give  me  a  chance.  Draw  off  your  men  and  I  will  fight  them 
singly.  I  could  have  killed  you  six  times  to-night,  but  1  believe  you  to  be 
a  brave  man,  and  would  not  murder  you.     Give  a  lame  man  a  show." 

It  was  too  late  for  parley.  All  this  time  Booth's  voice  had  sounded  from 
the  middle  of  the  barn. 

Ere  he  ceiised  speaking.  Colonel  Conger,  slipping  around  to  the  rear, 
drew  some  loose  straws  through  a  crack,  and  lit  a  match  upon  them.  They 
were  dry  and  blazed  up  in  an  instant,  carrying  a  sheet  of  smoke  and  flame 
through  the  parted  planks,  and  heaving  in  a  twinkling  a  world  of  light  and 
heat  upon  the  magazine  within.  The  blaze  lit  up  the  black  recesses  of  the 
great  barn  till  every  wasp's  nest  and  cobweb  in  the  roof  was  luminous, 


T^-f 


36  The  Life,  Crime  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

flinging  stroaks  of  red  and  violet  across  the  tumbled  farm  gear  in  the  cor- 
tii'r,  pU)Ws,  harrows,  hoes,  rakes,  sugar  mills,  and  making  every  separate 
grain  in  the  high  bin  adj;icent,  gleam  like  a  mote  of  precious  gold.  They 
tinged  the  beams,  the  upright  columns,  the  barricades,  where  clover  and 
timothy,  piled  high,  held  toward  the  hot  incendiary  their  separate  straws 
for  the  funeral  pile.  They  bathed  the  murderer's  retreat  in  beautiful  illu- 
mination, and  while  in  bold  outline  his  figure  stood  revealed,  they  rose  like 
an  impenetrable  wall  to  guard  from  sight  the  hated  enemy  who  lit  them. 
Behind  the  blaze,  with  his  eye  to  a  crack,  Conger  saw  Wilkes  Booth  stand- 
ing upright  upon  a  crutch.  lie  likens  him  at  this  instant  to  his  brother 
Edwin,  whom  he  says  he  so  much  resembled  that  he  half  believed,  for  the 
moment,  the  whole  pursuit  to  have  been  a  mistake.  At  the  gleam  of  the 
fire  Wilkes  dropped  his  crutch,  and,  carbine  in  both  hands,  crept  up  to  the 
spot  to  espy  the  incendiary  and  shoot  him  dead.  His  eyes  were  lustrous 
like  fever,  and  swelled  and  rolled  in  terrible  beauty,  while  his  teeth  were 
fixed,  and  he  wore  the  expression  of  one  in  the  calmness  before  frenzy.  In  vain 
he  peered  with  vengeance  in  his  look ;  the  blaze  that  made  him  visible  con- 
cealed his  enemy.  A  second  he  turned  glaring  at  the  fire,  as  if  to  leap 
upon  it  and  extinguish  it,  but  it  had  made  such  headway  that  this  was  a 
futile  impulse  and  he  dismissed  it.  As  calmly  as  upon  the  battle  field  a 
veteran  stands  amidst  the  hail  of  ball  and  shell,  and  plunging  iron,  Booth 
turned  at  a  man's  stride,  and  pushed  for  the  door,  carbine  in  poise,  and  the 
last  resolve  of  death,  which  we  name  despair,  set  on  his  high,  bloodless 
forehead. 

As  so  he  dashed,  intent  to  expire  not  unaccompanied,  a  disobedient  ser- 
geant at  an  eye-hole  drew  upon  him  the  fatal  bead.  The  barn  was  all 
glorious  with  conflagration  and  in  the  beautiful  ruin  this  outlawed  man 
strode  like  all  that  we  know  of  wicked  valor,  stern  in  the  fiice  of  death.  A 
shock,  a  shout,  a  gathering  up  of  his  splendid  figure  as  if  to  overtip  the 
stature  God  gave  him,  and  John  Wilkes  Booth  fell  headlong  to  the  floor, 
lying  there  in  a  heap,  a  little  life  remaining. 

"  He  has  shot  himself!"  cried  Baker,  unaware  of  the  source  of  the  report, 
and  rushing  in,  he  grasped  his  arms  to  guard  against  any  feint  or  strategy. 
A  moment  convinced  him  that  further  struggle  with  the  prone  flesh  was 
useless.  Booth  did  not  move,  nor  breathe,  nor  gasp.  Conger  and  two  ser- 
geants now  entered,  and  taking  up  the  body,  they  bore  it  in  haste  from  the 
advancing  flame,  and  laid  it  without  upon  the  grass,  all  fresh  with  heavenly- 
dew. 

"  Water,"  cried  Conger,  "  bring  water." 

When  this  was  dashed  into  his  face,  he  revived  a  moment  and  stirred  his 
lips.     Baker  put  his  ear  close  down,  and  heard  him  say  : 

"  Tell  mother — and  die — for  my  country." 

They  lifted  him  again,  the  fire  encroaching  in  hotness  upon  them  and 
placed  him  on  the  porch  before  the  dwelling. 

A  mattrass  was  brought  down,  on  which  they  placed  him  and  propped 
his  head,  and  gave  him  water  and  brandy.  The  women  of  the  household, 
joined  meantime  by  another  son,  who  had  been  found  in  one  of  the  corn 
cribs,  watching  as  he  said,  to  see  that  Booth  and  Harold  did  not  steal  the 
horses,  were  nervous,  but  prompt  to  do  the  dying  man  all  kindnesses, 
although  waived  sternly  back  by  the  detectives.  They  dipped  a  rag  in 
bri.ndy  and  water,  and  this  being  put  between  Booth's  teeth  he  sucked  it 
grredily.  When  he  was  able  to  articulate  again,  he  muttered  to  Mr.  Baker 
the  same  words,  with  an  addenda.  "  Tell  mother  I  died  for  mv  country, 
I  thought  1  did  for  the  best."     Baker  repeated  this,  sayiug  at  the  same  time 


The  Assass'uCs  Death.  37 

**  Booth,  do  I  repeat  it  correctly."  Booth  nodded  his  head.  By  this  timo 
the  grayness  of  dawn  was  approaching  ;  moving  figures  inquisitively  com- 
ing near  were  to  be  seen  distinctly,  and  the  cocks  began  to  crow  gutturally, 
though  the  barn  was  a  hulk  of  blaze  and  ashes,  sendinaj  toward  the  zenith 
a  spiral  line  of  dense  smoke.  The  women  became  importunate  that  the 
troops  might  be  ordered  to  extinguish  the  fire,  which  was  spreading  toward 
their  precious  corn-cribs.  Not  even  death  could  banish  the  call  of  interest. 
Soldiers  were  sent  to  put  out  the  fire,  and  Booth,  relieved  of  the  bustle 
around  him,  drew  near  to  death  apace.  Twice  he  was  heni-;l  to  say,  "  kill 
me,  kill  me."  His  lips  often  moved  but  could  complete  no  appreciable 
sound.  He  made  once  a  motion  which  the  quick  eye  of  Conger  under- 
stood to  mean  that  his  throat  pained  him.  Conger  put  his  finger  there, 
when  the  dying  man  attempted  to  cough,  but  only  causi-d  the  blood  at  his 
perforated  neck  to  flow  more  lively.  He  bled  very  little,  although  shot 
quite  through,  beneath  and  behind  the  ears,  his  collar  being  severed  on  both 
sides. 

A  soldier  had  been  meanwhile  despatched  for  a  doctor,  but  the  route  and 
return  were  quite  six  miles,  and  the  sinner  was  sinking  fast.  Still  the 
women  made  etforts  to  get  to  see  him,  but  were  always  rebutfed,  and  all 
the  brandy  they  could  find  was  demanded  by  the  assassin,  who  motioned 
for  strong  drink  every  two  minutes.  He  made  frequent  desires  to  be  turn- 
ed over,  not  by  speech,  but  by  gesture,  and  was  alternately  placed  upon  his 
back,  belly  and  side.  His  tremendous  vitality  evidenced  itself  almost 
miraculously.  Now  and  then  his  heart  would  cease  to  throb,  and  his  pulses 
would  be  as  cold  as  a  dead  man's.  Directly  life  would  begin  anew,  the 
face  would  flush  up  efl'ulgently,  the  eyes  open  and  brighten,  and  soon  re- 
lapsing, stillness  re-asserted,  would  again  be  dispossessed  by  the  same  mag- 
nificent triumph  of  man  over  mortality.  Finally  the  fussy  little  doctor 
arrived,  in  time  to  be  useless.  He  probed  the  wound  to  see  if  the  ball 
were  not  in  it,  and  shook  his  head  sagely  and  talked  learnedly. 

Just  at  his  coming  Booth  had  asked  to  have  his  hands  raised  and  shown 
him.  They  were  so  paralyzed  that  he  did  not  know  their  location.  When 
they  were  displayed  he  muttered,  with  a  sad  lethargy,  ''Useless,  useless." 
These  were  the  last  words  he  ever  uttered.  As  he  began  to  die  the  sun 
rose  and  threw  beams  into  all  the  tree-tops.  It  w;i.s  of  a  man's  height  when 
the  struggle  of  death  twitched  and  fingered  in  the  fading  bravo's  face.  Hia 
jaw  drew  spasmodically  and  obliquely  downward ;  his  eyeballs  rolled  to- 
ward his  feet,  and  began  to  swell ;  lividness,  like  a  horrible  shadow,  fast- 
ened upon  him,  aud,  with  a  sort  of  gurgle  and  sudden  check,  he  stretched 
his  feet  and  threw  his  head  back  and  gave  up  the  ghost. 

They  sewed  him  up  in  a  saddle  blanket.  This  was  his  shroud  ;  too  like 
a  soldier's.  Harold,  meantime,  had  been  tied  to  a  tree,  but  was  now  re- 
leased for  the  march.  Colonel  Conger  pushed  on  immediately  for  Wash- 
ington ;  the  cortege  was  to  follow.  Bcjoth's  only  arms  were  his  carbine, 
knife,  and  two  revolvers.  They  found  about  him  bills  of  exchange,  Canada 
money,  and  a  diary.  A  venerable  old  negro  living  in  th^  vicinity  had  the 
misfortune  to  possess  a  hoi'se.  This  horse  was  a  relic  of  former  genera- 
tions, and  showed  by  his  protruding  ribs  the  general  leanness  of  the  land. 
He  moved  in  an  eccentric  amble,  and  when  put  upon  his  speed  was  genet 
ally  run  backward.  To  this  old  negro's  horse  was  harnessid  a  very  shaky 
and  absurd  wagon,  which  rattled  like  approaching  dissolution,  and  each  park 
of  it  ran  without  any  connection  or  correspondence  with  any  other  part.  It 
had  no  tail-board,  and  its  shafts  were  sharp  as  famine  ;  and  into  this  mimicry 
of  a  vehicle  the  murdex'er  was  to  be  seat  to  the  I'otomac  river,  while  tke 


^  ■«  •• 


88  Hie  Life,   Crime,  and  Cajiture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

man  he  had  murdered  was  moving  in  state  across  the  mourning  continent. 
The  old  negro  geared  up  his  wagon  by  means  of  a  set  of  fossil  harness,  and 
when  it  was  backed  to  Garrett's  porch,  they  laid  within  it  the  discolored 
corpse.  The  corpse  was  tied  with  ropes  around  the  legs  and  made  fast  to 
the  wagon  sides.  Harold's  legs  were  tied  to  stirrups,  and  he  was  placed  in 
the  centre  of  four  murderous  looking  cavalrymen.  The  two  sons  of  Gar- 
rett were  also  taken  along,  despite  the  sobs  and  petitions  of  the  old  folks  and 
women,  but  the  rebel  captain  who  had  given  Booth  a  lift,  got  oft  amidst  the 
night's  agitations,  and  was  not  rearrested.  So  moved  the  cavalcade  of  re- 
tribution, with  death  in  its  midst,  along  the  road  to  Port  Royal.  When 
the  wagon  started.  Booth's  wound  till  now  scarcely  dribbling,  began  to  run 
anew.  It  fell  through  the  crack  of  the  wagon,  dripping  upon  the  axle,  and 
spotting  the  road  with  terrible  wafers.  It  stained  the  planks,  and  soaked 
the  blankets;  and  the  old  negro,  at  a  stoppage,  dabbled  his  hands  in  it  by 
mistake ;  he  drew  back  instantly,  with  a  shudder  and  stifled  expletive, 
"  Gor-r-r,  dat  '11  never  come  off"  in  de  world  ;  it's  murderer's  blood."  He 
wrung  his  hands,  and  looked  imploringly  at  the  officers,  and  shuddered 
again :  "  Gor-r-r,  I  wouldn't  have  dat  on  me  fur  tousand,  tousand  dollars." 
The  progress  of  the  team  was  slow,  with  frequent  danger  of  shipwreck 
altogether,  but  toward  noon  the  cortege  filed  through  Port  Royal,  where 
the  citizens  came  out  to  ask  the  matter,  and  why  a  man's  body,  covered 
with  sombre  blankets,  was  going  by  with  so  great  escort.  They  were  told 
that  it  was  a  wounded  confederate,  and  so  held  their  tongues.  The  little 
ferry,  again  in  requisition,  took  them  over  by  squads,  and  they  pushed  from 
Port  Conway  to  Bell  Plain,  which  they  reached  in  the  middle  of  the  after 
noon.  All  the  way  the  blood  dribbled  from  the  corpse  in  a  slow,  incessant, 
sanguine  exudation.  The  old  negro  was  niggardly  dismissed  with  two 
paper  dollars.  The  dead  man  untied  and  cast  upon  the  vessel's  deck,  steam 
gotten  up  in  a  little  while,  and  the  broad  Potomac  shores  saw  this  skeleton 
ship  flit  by,  as  the  bloody  sun  threw  gashes  and  blots  of  unhealthy  light, 
along  the  silver  surface. 

All  the  way  associate  with  the  carcass,  went  Harold,  shuddering  in  so 
gi'im  companionship,  and  in  the  awakened  fears  of  his  own  approaching 
ordeal,  beyond  which  it  loomed  already,  the  gossamer  fabric  of  a  scaffold. 
He  tried  to  talk  for  his  own  exoneration,  saying  he  had  ridden,  as  was  his 
wont,  beyond  the  East  Branch,  and  returning,  found  Booth  wounded,  who 
begged  him  to  be  his  companion.  Of  his  crime  he  knew  nothing,  so  help 
him  God,  &c.  But  nobody  listened  to  him.  All  interest  of  crime, 
courage,  and  retribution  centered  in  the  dead  flesh  at  his  feet.  At  Wash- 
ington, high  and  low  turned  out  to  look  on  Booth.  Only  a  few  were  per- 
mitted to  see  his  corpse  for  purposes  of  recognition.  It  was  fairly  pre- 
served, though  on  one  side  of  the  face  distorted,  and  looking  blue-like 
death,  and  wildly  bandit-like,  as  if  bearen  by  avenging  winds. 

Yesterday  the  Secretary  of  War,  without  instructions  of  any  kind,  com 
mitted  to  Colonel  Lafayette  C.  Baker,  of  the  secret  service,  the  stark  corpse 
of  J.  Wilkes  Booth.  The  secret  service  never  fulfilled  its  volition  more 
secretively.  "  What  have  you  done  with  the  body  ?"  said  I  to  Baker. 
"That  is  known  "  he  answered,  "  to  only  one  man  living  besides  myself. 
It  is  gone.  I  will  not  tell  you  where.  The  only  man  who  knows  is  sworn 
to  silence.  Never  till  the  great  trumpeter  comes  shall  the  grave  of 
Booth  be  discovered."  And  this  is  true.  Last  night,  the  27th  of  April,  a 
small  row  boat  received  the  carcass  of  the  murderer ;  two  men  were  in  it, 
they  carried  the  body  off"  into  the  darkness,  and  out  of  that  darkness  it  will 
never  return.     In  the  darkness,  like  his  great  crime,  may  it  remain  forever, 


A  Solution  of  the   Conspiracy.  39 

impalpable,  invisible,  nondescript,  condemned  to  that  worse  than  damna- 
tion,— annihilation.  The  river-bottom  may  ooze  about  it  laden  with 
great  shot  and  drowning  manacles.  The  earth  may  have  opened  to  give  it 
that  silence  and  forgiveness  which  man  will  never  give  its  memory.  The 
fishes  may  swim  around  it,  or  the  daisies  grow  white  above  it;  but  wo 
shall  never  know.  Mysterious,  incomprehensible,  unattainable,  like  the 
dim  times  through  Avhich  we  live  and  think  upon  as  if  we  only  dreamed 
them  in  perturbed  fever,  the  assassin  of  a  nation's  head  rests  somewhere 
in  the  elements,  and  that  is  all ;  but  if  the  indignant  seas  or  the  profaned 
turf  shall  ever  vomit  his  corpse  from  their  recesses,  and  it  receive  humane 
or  Christian  burial  from  some  who  do  not  recognize  it,  let  the  last  words 
those  decaying  lips  ever  uttered  be  carved  above  them  with  a  dagger,  to 
tell  the  history  of  a  young  and  once  promising  life — useless  !  useless  ! 


LETTER    V. 

A  SOLTTTION  OF  THE  CONSPIRACY. 

[The  annexed  Letter,  which  has  been  cavilled  at,  as  much  as  copied,  is  a  rationale  of 
the  Conspiracy,  combined  from  the  Government's  own  officers.  When  it  was  written  it 
was  believed  to  be  true :  the  evidence  at  the  trial  has  confirmed  much  of  it :  I  reprint  it 
to  show  how  men's  ingenuities  were  at  work  to  account  for  the  conception  and  progress 
of  the  Plot.] 

Washikgton,  May  2. 

Justice  and  fame  are  equally  and  simultaneously  satisfied.  The  Presi- 
dent is  not  yet  in  his  sarcophagus,  but  all  the  conspirators  against  his  life, 
with  a  minor  exception  or  two,  are  in  their  prison  cells  waiting  for  the 
halter. 

The  dark  and  bloody  plot  against  a  good  ruler's  life  is  now  so  fully  un- 
raveled that  I  may  make  it  plain  to  you.  There  is  nothing  to  be  gained 
by  further  waiting ;  the  trials  are  proceeding ;  the  evidence  is  mountain 
high.  Within  a  week  the  national  scaffold  will  have  done  its  work,  and 
be  laid  away  forever.  This  prompt  and  necessary  justice  will  signal  the 
last  public  assassination  in  America.  Borgia,  and  Medici,  and  Brinvilliers, 
have  left  no  descendants  on  this  side  of  the  world. 

The  conspiracy  was  both  the  greatest  ana  the  smallest  of  our  cycle. 
Narrowed  in  execution  to  a  few,  it  was  understood  and  connived  at  by  a 
multitude.  One  man  was  its  head  and  heart ;  its  accessories  were  so  m> 
merous  that  the  trouble  is  not  whom  to  suspect,  but  whom  not  accuse. 
Damning  as  the  result  must  be  to  the  character  of  our  race,  it  must  be 
admitted,  in  the  light  of  facts,  that  Americans  are  as  secretive  and  as 
skillful  plotters  as  any  people  in  the  world.  The  Rye  House  plot,  neve/ 
fully  understood  ;  the  many  schemes  of  Mazzini,  never  fiistened  upon  him 
sufficiently  well  for  implication,  yield  in  extent,  darkness  and  intricacy,  to 
the  republican  plot  against  the  President's  life  and  those  of  his  counselors. 
The  police  operations  prove  that  the  late  murder  (^  as  not  a  spasmodic 
and  fitful  crime,  but  long  premeditated,  and  carried  to  consummation  with 
as  much  cohesion  and  resolution  as  the  murder  of  Allcssandro  de  Medici 
or  Henri  Quatre. 

I  have  been  accused  of  cannonizing  Booth.  Much  as  I  denounce  and  de- 
],recate  his  crime — holding  him  to  be  worthy  of  all  execration,  and  so 
Sjeeped  in  blood  that  the  exciii;es  v^  a  cpntury  will  fail  to  lift  him  out  of 


40  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

the  atm<»sphere  of  common  felons — I  still,  at  every  new  developement, 
stand  t'arther  back  in  surprise  and  terror  at  the  wonderful  resources  and 
extraordinary  influence  of  one  whom  1  had  learned  to  consider  a  mere 
Thespian,  full  of  sound,  fury,  and  assertion. 

Strange  and  anomalous  as  the  facts  may  seem,  John  Wilkes  Booth 
was  the  sole  projector  of  the  plot  against  the  President  which  culminated 
in  the  taking  of  that  good  man's  life.  He  had  rolled  under  his  tongue 
the  sweet  paragraphs  of  Shakspearerefering  to  Brutus,  as  had  his  father  so 
well,  that  the  old  man  named  one  son  Junius  Brutus,  and  the  other  John 
Wilkes,  after  the  wild  English  agitator,  until  it  became  his  ambition,  like 
the  wicked  Lorenzino  de  Mi-dici,  to  stake  his  life  upon  one  stroke  for  fame, 
the  murder  of  a  ruler  obnoxious  to  the  South. 

That  Wilkes  Booth  was  a  southern  man  from  the  first  may  be  accounted 
for  upon  grounds  of  interest  as  well  as  of  sympathy.  It  is  insidious  to  find 
no  higher  incentive  than  appreciation,  but  on  the  stage  this  is  the  first  and 
last  motive ;  and  as  Edwin  Booth  made  his  success  in  the  North  and  re- 
mained steadfast,  Wilkes  Booth  was  most  truly  applauded  in  the  South, 
and  became  rebel.  A  false  emotion  of  gratitude,  as  well  as  an  impulse 
of  mingled  waywardness  and  gratitude,  set  John  Wilkes's  face  from  the 
first  toward  the  North,  and  he  burned  to  make  his  name  a  part 
of  history,  cried  into  fame  by  the  applauses  of  the  South. 

He  hung  to  his  bloody  suggestion  with  dogged  inflexibility,  maintaining 
only  one  axiom  above  all  the  rest — that  whatever  minor  parts  might  be  en- 
acted— Casca,  Cassius,  or  what  not — he  was  to  be  the  dramatic  Brutus,  ex- 
cepting that  assassin's  negativeness.  In  other  words,  the  idea  was  to  be  his 
own,  as  well  as  the  crowning  blow. 

Booth  shrank  at  first  from  murder,  until  another  and  less  dangerous  res- 
olution failed.  This  was  no  less  than  the  capture  of  the  President's  body, 
and  its  detention  or  transportation  to  the  South.  I  do  not  rely  on  this  as- 
sertion upon  his  sealed  letter,  where  he  avows  it;  there  has  been  found  upon 
a  street  within  the  city  limits,  a  house  belonging  to  one  Mrs.  Greene,  mined 
and  furnished  with  underground  apartments,  manacles  and  all  the  accessor- 
ies to  private  imprisonment.  Here  the  President,  and  as  many  as  could 
be  gagged  and  conveyed  away  with  him,  were  to  be  concealed  in  the  event 
of  tailure  to  run  them  into  the  confederacy.  Owing  to  his  failure  to  group 
around  him  as  many  men  as  he  desired.  Booth  abandoned  the  project  of 
kidnapping  ;  but  the  house  was  discovered  last  week,  as  represented,  ready 
to  be  blown  up  at  a  moment's  notice. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Booth  devised  his  triumphant  route  through  the 
South.  The  dramatic  element  seems  to  have  been  never  lacking  in  his 
design,  and  with  all  his  base  purposes  he  never  failed  to  consider  some  sub- 
8e<:(uent  notoriety  to  be  enjoyed.  He  therefore  shipped,  before  the  end  of 
1864,  his  theatrical  wardrobe  from  Canada  to  Nassau.  After  the  commis- 
sion of  his  crime  he  intended  to  reclaim  it,  and  "  star"  through  the  South, 
drawing  money  as  much  by  his  crime  as  his  abilities. 

When  Booth  began  "on  his  own  responsibility,"  to  hunt  for  accomplices, 
he  found  his  theory  at  fault.  The  bold  men  he  had  dreamed  of  refused  to 
join  him  in  the  rash  attempt  at  kidnapping  the  President,  and  were  too 
conscientious  to  meditate  murder.  All  those  who  presented  themselves 
were  military  men,  unwilling  to  be  subordinate  to  a  civilian,  and  a  merp 
play-actor,  and  the  mortified  bravo  found  himself  therefore  compelled  to 
sink  to  a  petty  rank  in  the  plot,  or  to  make  use  of  base  and  despicable 
{Assistants.  His  vanity  found  it  easier  to  compound  with  the  second  alter 
native  than  the  first. 


A  Solution  of  the   Conspiracy.  'il 

Here  began  the  first  resolve,  which,  in  its  mere  animal  estate,  we  may 
name  courage.  Booth  found  that  a  tragedy  in  real  life  could  no  more  bo 
enacted  without  greasy-faced  and  knock-ivneed  supernumeraries  than  upon 
the  mimic  stage.  Your  "  First  Citizen,"  who  swings  a  stave  for  Marc 
Antony,  and  drinks  hard  porter  behind  the  flies  is  very  like  tlie  bravo  of 
real  life,  who  murders  between  his  cocktails  at  the  nearest  bar.  Wilkea 
Booth  had  passed  the  ordeal  of  a  garlicky  green-room,  and  did  not  shrink 
from  the  broader  and  ranker  green-room  of  real  life.  lie  assembled 
around  him,  one  by  one,  the  cut-throats  at  whom  his  soul  would  have  re- 
volted, except  that  he  had  bec(»me,  by  resolve,  a  cut-throat  in  himself. 

About  this  time  certain  gentlemen  in  Canada  began  to  be  uneuviably 
known.  I  abstain  from  giving  their  names,  because  unaware  of  how  far 
they  seconded  this  crime,  if  at  all.  But  they  seconded  as  infamous  things, 
such  as  cowardly  raids  from  neutral  territory  into  the  states,  bauk  robbings, 
lake  pirating,  city  burning,  counterfeiting,  railway  sundering,  and  the  im- 
portation of  yellow  fever  into  peaceful  and  unoffending  communities.  I 
make  no  charges  against  those  whom  I  do  not  know,  but  simply  say  that 
the  confederate  agents,  Jacob  Tompson,  Larry  McDonald,  Clement  Clay, 
and  some  others,  had  already  accomplished  enough  villainy  to  make  Wilkes 
Bat)th,  on  the  first  of  the  present  year,  believe  that  he  had  but  to  seek  an 
interview  with  them. 

He  visited  the  provinces  once  certainly,  and  three  times  it  is  believed, 
stopping  in  Montreal  at  St.  Lawrence  Hall,  and  banking  four  hundred  and 
fifty-five  dollars  odd  at  the  Ontario  bank.  This  was  his  own  money.  I 
have  myself  seen  his  bank-book  with  the  single  entry  of  this  amount.  It 
was  found  in  the  room  of  Atzerott,  at  Kirkwood's  Hotel,  From  this  visit, 
whatever  encouragement  Booth  received,  he  continued  in  systematic  cor- 
respondence with  one  or  more  of  those  agents  down  to  the  commission  of 
his  crime.  I  dare  not  say  how  far  each  of  these  agents  was  implicated, 
My  personal  conviction  is  that  they  were  neither  loth  to  the  miirder  nor 
astonished  when  it  had  been  done.  They  had  money  with  discretion  from 
the  confederacy,  though  acting  at  discretion  and  outside  of  responsibility, 
and  always,  at  every  wild  adventure,  they  instructed  their  dupes  that  each 
man  took  his  life  in  his  hand  on  every  incursion  into  the  north.  So  Beale 
took  his,  raiding  on  the  great  lakes.  So  Kennedy  took  his,  on  a  midnight 
bonfire-tramp  into  the  metropolis.  So  took  the  St.  Albans  raiders  their 
lives  in  their  palms,  dashing  into  a  peaceful  town.  And  if  these  agents 
entertained  Wilkes  Booth's  suggestion  at  all  they  plainly  told  him  that  he 
carried  his  life  in  his  dagger's  edge,  and  could  expect  from  them  neither 
aid  nor  exculpation. 

Some  one  or  all  of  these  agents  furnished  Booth  with  a  murderer.  Tlie 
fellow  Wood  or  Payne,  who  stabbed  Mr.  Seward  and  was  caught  at  Mrs. 
Surratt's  house  in  Washington.  He  was  one  of  three  Kentucky  brothers, 
all  outlaws,  and  had  himself,  it  is  believed,  accompanied  one  of  his  brothers, 
who  is  known  to  have  been  at  St.  Albans  on  the  day  of  the  bank-delivery. 
This  Payne,  besides  being  positively  identified  as  the  assassin  of  the 
Sewards,  hiul  no  friends  nor  haunts  in  Washington.  He  was  simply  a  dis- 
patched murderer,  and  after  the  night  of  the  crime,  struck  northward  of 
the  frontier,  instead  of  southward  in  the  company  of  Booth.  The  proof, 
of  this  will  follow  in  the  course  of  the  article. 

While  1  assert  that  the  Canadian  agents  knew  Booth  and  patted  his  back 
calling  him,  like  AIncbeth,  the  "  prince  of  cutthroats,"   I  am  equally  cer. 
tain  that  Booth's  project  was  unknown  in  Richmond.     No  word,  nor  writ- 
ten line,  no  clue  of  any  sort  has  been  found  attaching  Booth  to  thti  coufeder 


L. 


42  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

ate  authorities.  The  most  that  can  be  urged  to  meet  preposterous  claims 
of  this  sort  is,  that  out  of  the  rebellion  grew  the  murder;  which  is  like 
attributing  the  measles  to  the  creation  of  man.  But  McDonald  and  his 
party  had  money  at  discretion,  and  under  their  control  the  vilest  fellows 
on  the  continent.  Their  personal  influence  over  those  errant  ones  amount- 
ed to  omnipotence.  Most  of  the  latter  were  young  and  sanguine  people, 
like  Beale  and  Booth;  their  plots  were  made  up  at  St.  Catharine's, Toronto, 
and  Montreal,  and  they  have  maintained  since  the  war  began,  rebel  mail 
routes  between  Canada  and  Richmond,  leading  directly  passed  Washington, 

If  Booth  received  no  positive  instructions,  he  was  at  any  rate  adjudged 
a  man  likely  to  be  of  use,  and  therefore  introduced  to  the  rebel  agencies 
in  and  around  Washington.  Doubtless  by  direct  letter,  or  verbal  instruo 
tion,  he  received  a  password  to  the  house  of  Mrs.  Surratt. 

Half  applauded,  half  rebuffed  by  the  rebel  agents  in  Canada,  Booth's 
impressions  of  his  visit  were  just  those  which  would  whet  him  soonest  for 
the  tragedy.  His  vanity  had  been  fed  by  the  assurance  that  success  d^ 
pended  upon  himself  alone,  and  th&t  as  he  had  the  responsibility  he  would 
absorb  the  fame ;  and  the  method  of  correspondence  was  of  that  dark  and 
mysterious  shape  which  powerfully  operated  upon  his  dramatic  tempera- 
ment. 

What  could  please  an  actor,  and  the  son  of  an  actor,  better  than  to  mii>- 
gle  as  a  principal  in  a  real  conspiracy,  the  aims  of  which  were  pseudo- 
patriotic,  and  the  end  so  astounding  that  at  its  coming  the  whole  globe 
would  reel.  Booth  reasoned  that  the  ancient  world  would  not  feel  more 
sensitively  the  death  of  Julius  Ccesar  than  the  new  the  sudden  taking  off 
of  Abraham  Lincoln. 

And  so  he  grew  into  the  idea  of  murder.  It  became  his  business  thought. 
It  was  his  recreation  and  his  study.  He  had  not  worked  half  so  hard  for 
histrionic  success  as  for  his  terrible  graduation  into  an  assassin.  He  had 
fought  often  on  the  boards,  and  seen  men  die  in  well-imitated  horror,  with 
flowing  blood  upon  his  keen  sword's  edge,  and  the  strong  stride  of  mimio 
victory  with  which  he  flourished  his  weapon  at  the  closing  of  the  curtain- 
He  embraced  conspiracy  like  an  old  diplomatist,  and  found  in  the  woman 
and  the  spot  subjects  for  emulation. 

Southeast  of  Washington  stretches  a  tapering  peninsula,  composed  of 
four  fertile  counties,  which  at  the  remote  tip  make  Point  Lookout,  and  do 
not  contain  any  town  within  them  of  more  than  a  few  hundred  inhabitants. 
Tobacco  has  ruined  the  land  of  these,  and  slavery  has  ruined  the  people. 
Yet  in  t^e  beginning  they  were  of  that  splendid  stock  of  Calvert  and  Lord 
Baltimore,  but  retain  to-day  only  the  religioij  of  the  peaceful  founder.  I 
mention  it  is  an  exceptional  and  remarkable  fact,  that  every  conspirator  in 
custody  is  by  education  a  Catholic.  These  are  our  most  loyal  citizens  else- 
where, but  the  western  shore  of  Maryland  is  a  noxious  and  pestilential  place 
/or  patriotism.  The  county  immediately  outside  of  the  District  of  Columbia, 
to  the  south,  is  named  Prince  Gorgia's  arid  the  pleasantest  village  of  this 
county,  close  to  Washington,  is  called  Surrattsville.  This  consists  of  a 
few  cabins  at  a  cross-road,  surrounding  a  fine  old  hotel,  the  master  whereof^ 
giving  the  settlement  his  name,  left  the  property  to  his  wife,  who  for  a  long 
time  carried  it  on  with  indifferent  success.  Having  a  son  and  several 
daughters,  she  moved  to  Washington  soon  after  the  beginning  of  the  war 
and  let  the  tavern  to  a  trusty  friend — one  John  Lloyd.  Surrattsville  has 
gained  nothing  in  patronage  or  business  from  the  war,  except  that  it  became 
at  an  early  date,  a  rebel  postoffice.  The  great  secret  mail  from  Matthias 
Creek,  Virginia,  to  Port  Tobacco,  struck  Surrattsville,  and  thence  headed 


A  Solution  of  the  2ilystery.  43 

off  to  the  cast  to  Washingt-on,  going  meanderingly  north.  Of  this  postr 
route  Mrs.  Surratt  was  a  manageress ;  and  John  Lloyd,  when  he  rented 
her  hotel,  assumed  the  responsibility  of  looking  out  for  the  mail,  as  w^ll 
the  duty  of  making  Mrs.  Surratt  at  home  when  she  chose  to  visit  him. 

So  Siirrattsville  only  ten  miles  from  Washington,  has  been  throughout 
the  war  a  sect  of  conspiracy.  It  was  like  a  suburb  of  Richmond,  reaching 
quite  up  to  the  rival  capital ;  and  though  the  few  Unionists  on  the  peninsula 
knew  its  reputation  well  enough,  nothing  of  the  sort  came  out  until  the 
murder. 

Treason  never  found  a  better  agent  than  Mrs.  Surratt.  She  is  a  large, 
masculine,  self-possessed  female,  mistress  of  her  house,  and  as  lithe  a  rebel 
as  Belle  Boyd  or  Mrs.  Greenhough.  She  has  not  the  flippantry  and  menace 
of  the  first,  nor  the  social  power  of  the  second ;  but  the  rebellion  has  found 
no  fitter  agent. 

At  her  country  tavern  and  Washington  home  Booth  was  made  welcome, 
and  there  began  the  muttered  murder  against  the  nation  and  mankind. 

The  acquaintance  of  Mrs.  Surratt  in  Lower  Maryland  undoubtedly  sug- 
gested to  Booth  the  route  of  escape,  and  made  him  known  to  his  subse- 
quent accomplices.  Last  fall  he  visited  the  entire  region,  as  far  as 
Leonardstown,  in  St.  Mary's  county,  professing  to  be  in  search  of  land  but 
really  hunting  up  confederates  upon  whom  he  could  depend.  At  this  time 
he  bought  a  map,  a  fellow  to  which  I  have  seen  among  Atzerott's  effects, 
published  at  Buffalo  for  the  rebel  government,  and  marking  at  hap-hazard 
all  the  MaTvland  villages,  but  without  tracing  the  highroads  at  all.  The 
absence  of  these  roads,  it  w^ill  be  seen  hereafter,  very  nearly  misled  Booth 
during  his  crippled  flight. 

It  could  not  but  have  struck  Booth  that  this  isolated  part  of  Maryland 
ignorant  and  rebel  to  the  brim,  without  telegraph  or  railways,  or  direct 
stage  routes,  belted  with  swamps  and  broken  by  dense  timber,  afforded 
extraordinary  opportunities  for  shelter  and  escape.  Only  the  coast  survey 
had  any  adequate  map  of  it ;  it  was  ultima  thiile  to  all  intents,  and  treason 
might  subsist  in  welcome  upon  it  for  a  thousand  years. 

When  Booth  cast  around  him  for  assistance,  he  naturally  selected  those 
men  whom  he  could  control.  The  first  that  recommended  himself  was  one 
Harold,  a  youth  of  inane  and  plastic  character,  carried  away  by  the  example 
of  an  actor,  and  full  of  execrable  quotations,  going  to  show  that  he  was  an 
imitator  of  the  master  spirit  both  in  text  and  admiration.  This  Harold 
was  a  gunner,  and  therefore  versed  in  arms ;  he  had  traversed  the  whole 
lower  portion  of  Maryland,  and  was  therefore  a  geographer  as  w^ell  as  a 
tool.  His  friends  lived  at  every  farmhouse  between  Washington  and 
Leonardsville,  and  he  was  respectably  enough  connected,  so  as  to  make  his 
association  creditable  as  well  as  useful. 

Harold,  whose  picture  I  have  seen,  is  a  dull-faced,  shallow  boy,  smooth- 
haired,  and  provincial ;  he  had  no  money  nor  employment,  except  that  he 
clerked  for  a  druggist  a  while,  until  he  knew  Wilkes  Booth,  who  looked  at 
him  only  once,  and  bought  his  soul  for  a  smile.  Harold  was  infatuated  by 
Booth  as  a  woman  by  a  soldier.  He  copied  his  gait  and  tone,  adopted  his 
opinions,  and  was  unhappy  out  of  his  society.  Booth  gave  him  money, 
mysteriously  obtained,  and  together  they  made  the  acquaintance  of  young 
John  Surratt,  son  of  the  conspiratress. 

Young  Surratt  does  not  appear  to  have  been  a  puissant  spirit  in  the 
scheme ;  indeed,  all  design  and  influence  therein  was  absorbed  by  Mrs. 
Surratt  and  Booth.  The  latter  was  the  head  and  heart  of  the  plot ;  Mrs. 
Surratt  was  his  anchor,  and  the  rest  of  the  boys  were  disciples  to  Iscariot 


-  ■-IT'ir- 


4  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

aud  Jezebel.  John  Surratt,  a  youth  of  strong  Southern  phvsiognoiiiy', 
bejirdless  and  lanky,  knew  of  the  murder  and  connived  at  it.  "Sam" 
Arnold  and  one  McLaughlin  were  to  have  been  parties  to  it,  but  backed 
out  in  the  end.  They  all  relied  upon  Mrs.  Surratt,  and  took  their  "cues" 
from  Wilkes  Booth. 

The  conspiracy  had  its  own  time  and  kept  its  own  counsel.  Murder 
except  among  the  principals,  was  seldom  mentioned  except  by  genteel  im^ 
plication.  But  they  all  publicly  agreed  that  Mr,  Li;icoln  ought  to  be  shot, 
and  that  the  North  was  a  race  of  fratricides.  Much  was  said  of  Brutus, 
and  Booth  repeated  heroic  passages  to  the  delight  of  Harold,  who  learned 
them  also,  and  wondered  if  he  was  not  born  to  greatness. 

In  this  growing  darkness,  where  all  rehearsed  cold-hearted  murder, 
Wilkes  Booth  grew  great  of  stature.  He  had  found  a  purpose  consonant 
with  his  evil  nature  and  bad  influence  over  weak  men ;  so  he  grew  moodier, 
more  vigilant,  more  plausible.  By  mien  and  temperament  he  was  born  to 
handle  a  stiletto.  We  have  no  face  so  markedly  Italian ;  it  would  stand 
for  Caesar  Borgia  any  day  in  the  year.  All  the  rest  were  swayed  or  per- 
suaded by  Booth  ;  his  schemes  were  three  in  order  : 

1st.  To  kidnap  the  President  and  Cabinet,  and  run  them  South  or  blow 
tliem  up. 

2d.  Kidnapping  failed,  to  murder  the  President  and  the  rest  and  seek 
shelter  in  the  confederate  capital. 

3d.  The  rebellion  failed,  to  be  its  avenger,  and  throw  the  country  into 
consternation,  while  he  escaped  by  the  unfrequented  parts  of  Maryland. 

When  this  last  resolution  had  been  made,  the  plot  was  both  contracted 
»nd  extended.  There  were  made  two  distinct  circles  of  confidants — those 
aware  of  the  meditated  murder,  and  those  who  might  shrink  from  murder, 
though  willing  accessories  for  a  lesser  object.  Two  colleagues  for  blood 
were  at  once  accepted — Payne  and  Atzerott. 

The  former  I  have  sketched  ;  he  is  believed  to  have  visited  Washington 
once  before,  at  Booth's  citation ;  for  the  murder  was  at  first  fixed  for  the 
day  of  inauguration.  Atzerott  was  a  fellow  of  German  descent,  who  had 
led  a  desperate  life  at  Port  Tobacco,  where  he  was  a  house-painter.  He 
had  been  a  blockade-runner  across  the  Potomac,  and  a  mail-carrier. 
When  Booth  and  Mrs.  Surratt  broke  the  design  to  him,  with  a  suggestion 
that  there  was  wealth  in  it,  he  embraced  the  offer  at  once,  and  bought  a 
dii"k  and  pistol.  Payne  also  came  from  the  North  to  W  ashingt(jn,  and, 
as  fate  would  have  it,  the  President  was  announced  to  appear  at  Ford's 
theater  in  public.  There  the  resolve  of  blood  was  reduced  to  a  definite 
moment. 

On  the  night  before  the  crime  Booth  found  on  whom  he  could  rely. 
John  Surratt  Wiis  sent  northward  by  his  mother  on  Thursday.  Sam 
Arnold  and  McLaughlin,  each  of  whom  was  to  kill  a  cabinet  officer,  grew 
pigeon-livered  and  ran  away.  Harold  true  to  his  partiality,  lingered 
around  Booth  to  the  end ;  Atzerott  went  so  f;ir  as  to  take  his  knife  and 
pistol  to  Kirkwood's,  where  President  Johnson  was  stopping,  and  hid  them 
under  the  bed.  But-  either  his  counige  failed,  or  a  trifling  accident  de- 
ranged his  plan.  But  Payne,  a  professional  murderer,  stood  "game,"  and 
fought  his  way  over  prostrate  figures  to  his  sick  victim's  bed.  There  was 
great  confusion  and  terror  among  the  tacit  and  rash  conspirators  on  Thurs- 
day night.  They  hiid  looked  upon  the  plot  as  of  a  melodrama,  and  found 
to  their  horror  that  John  W^ilkes  Booth  meant  to  do  murder. 

Six  weeks  before  the  murder,  young  John  Surratt  had  taken  two  splen- 
did T^peating  carbines  to  Surrattville  and  told  John  Lloyd  to  secret  them. 


•i ^  I    ■"      -^  '^ 


A  Solution  of  the  Mystery.  "^^ 

Tiio  latter  made  a  hole  in  the  waiuscotting  and  suspended  them  fioui 
stiin<.'-s,  so  that  they  fell  within  the  plastered  wall  of  the  room  below.  On 
the  \Ki\-s  afternoon  of  the  murder,  Mrs.  Surratt  was  driven  to  Surrattsville, 
and  she  told  John  Lloyd  to  have  the  carbines  ready  because  they  would 
be  called  for  that  night.  Harold  was  made  quartermaster,  and  hired  the 
horses.  He  and  Atzerott  were  mounted  between  8  o'clock  and  the  time 
of  the  murder,  and  riding  about  the  streets  together. 

The  whole  party  was  prepared  for  a  long  ride,  as  their  spurs  and  gaunt- 
lets show.  It  may  have  been  their  design  to  ride  in  company  to  the  Lower 
Potomac,  and  by  their  numbers  exact  subsistence  and  transportation  ;  but 
all  edifices  of  murder  lack  a  corner  stone.  We  only  know  that  Booth  ate 
and  talked  well  during  the  day  ;  that  he  never  seemed  so  deeply  involved 
in  '  oil,"  and  that  there  is  a  hiatus  between  his  supper  here  and  his  appear- 
ance at  Ford's  theater. 

Lk)yd,  I  may  interpolate,  ordered  his  wife  a  few  days  before  the  rnurder 
to  go  on  a  visit  to  Allen's  Fresh.  She  says  she  does  not  know  why  she 
was  so  sent  away,  but  swears  that  it  is  so.  Harold,  three  weeks  before  the 
murder,  visited  Port  Tobacco,  and  said  that  the  next  time  the  boys  heard 
of  him  he  would  be  in  Spain ;  he  added  that  with  Spain  there  was  no  extra- 
dition treaty.  He  said  at  Surrattsville  that  he  meant  to  make  a  barrel  of 
money,  or  his  neck  would  stretch. 

Atzerott  said  that  if  he  ever  came  to  Port  Tobacco  again  he  would  be 
rich  enough  to  buy  the  whole  place. 

Wilkes  Booth  told  a  friend  to  go  to  Ford's  on  Friday  night  and  see  the 
best  acting  in  the  world. 

At  Ford's  theater,  on  Friday  night,  there  were  many  standers  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  do-^r,  and  along  the  dress  circle  in  the  direction  of  the 
private  box  where  the  President  sat. 

The  play  went  on  pleasantly,  though  Mr.  Wijkes  Booth  an  observer  of 
the  audience,  visited  the  stage  and  took  note  of  the  positions.  His  alleged 
associate,  the  stage  carpenter,  then  received  quiet  orders  to  clear  the  pas- 
sage by  the  wings  from  the  prompter's  post  to  the  stage  door.  All  this 
time,  Mr.  Lincoln,  in  his  family  circle,  unconscious  of  the  death  that  crowd- 
ed fast  upon  him,  watched  the  pleasantry  and  smiled  and  felt  heartful  of 
gentleness. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  murmur  near  the  audience  door,  as  of  a  man 
speaking  above  his  bound.     He  said  : 

"  Nine  o'clock  and  forty -five  minutes  !" 

These  words  were  reiterated  fnjm  mouth  to  mouth  until  they  passed  the 
theater  door,  and  were  heard  upon  the  sidewalk. 

Directly  a  voice  cried,  in  the  same  slightly-raised  monotone : 

"  Nine  o'clock  and  fifty  minutes  !  " 

This  also  passed  from  man  to  man,  until  it  touched  the  street  like  a 
shudder. 

"  Nine  o'clock  and  fifty-five  minutes  !"  said  the  same  relentless  voice, 
after  the  next  interval,  each  of  which  narrowed  to  a  lesser  span  the  life  of 
the  good  President. 

Ten  o'clock  here  sounded,  and  conspiring  echo  said  in  reverberation  : 

"  Ten  o'clock !" 

So  like  a  creeping  thing,  from  lip  to  lip,  went : 

"  Ten  o'clock  and  five  minutes." 

(An  interval.) 

''  Ten  <j' clock  and  ten  minutes  !" 

At  this  instant  Wilkes  Booth  appeared  in  the  door  of  the  theater,  and 


^-i\  ...»— '-'^   v--     .-'-■^-•^     •-■ i^-^Wi^i 


■V?U?WL-J¥V^* 


46  7%e  Life,  Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

the  men  who  had  repeated  the  time  so  faithfully  and  so  ominously  scattered 
at  his  coming,  as  at  some  warning  phantom.  Fifteen  minutes  afterwards 
the  telegraph   wires  were  cut. 

All  this  is  so  dramatic  that  I  fear  to  excite  a  laugh  when  I  write  it.  But 
it  is  true  and  proven,  and  I  do  not  say  it  but  report  it. 

All  evil  deeds  go  wrong.  While  the  click  of  the  pistol,  taking  tho 
President's  life,  went  like  a  pang  through  the  theater,  Payne  was  spilling 
blood  in  Mr.  Seward's  house  from  threshold  to  sick  chamber.  But 
Booth's  broken  leg  delayed  him  or  made  him  lose  his  general  calmness, 
and  he  and  Harold  left  Payne  to  his  fate. 

I  have  not  adverted  to  the  hole  bored  with  a  gimlet  in  the  entry  door 
of  Mr.  Lincoln's  box,  and  cut  out  with  a  penknife.  The  theory  that  the 
pistol-ball  of  Booth  passed  through  this  hole  is  exploded.  And  the  stage 
carpenter  may  have  to  answer  for  this  little  orifice  with  all  his  neck.  For 
when  Booth  leaped  from  the  box  he  strode  straight  across  the  stage  by 
the  footlights,  reaching  the  prompter's  post,  which  is  immediately  behind 
that  private  box  opposite  Mr.  Lincoln.  From  this  box  to  the  stage  door 
iu  the  rear,  the  passage-way  leads  behind  the  ends  of  the  scenes,  and  if 
generally  either  closed  up  by  one  or  more  withdrawn  scenes,  or  so  narrow 
that  only  by  doubling  and  turning  sidewise  can  one  pass  along.  On  thi? 
fearful  night,  however,  the  scenes  were  so  adjusted  to  the  murderer's  de- 
sign that  he  had  a  free  aisle  from  the   foot  of  the  stage  to  the  exit  door. 

Within  fifteen  minutes  after  the  murder  the  wires  were  severed  entirely 
around  the  city,  excepting  only  a  secret  wire  for  government  uses,  which 
leads  to  Old  Point.  I  am  told  that  by  this  wire  the  government  reached 
the  fortifications  aro\ind  Washington,  first  telegraphing  all  the  way  to  Old 
Point,  and  then  back  to  the  outlying  forts.  This  information  comes  to  me 
from  s)  many  creditable  channels  that  I  must  concede  it. 

Payne,  having,  as  he  thought,  made  an  end  of  Mr.  Seward — which 
would  have  been  the  case  but  for  Robinson,  the  nurse — mounted  his 
horse,  and  attempted  to  find  Booth.  But  the  town  was  in  alarm,  and  he 
galloped  at  once  for  the  open  country,  taking  as  he  imagined,  the  proper 
)-oad  for  the  East  Branch.  He  rode  at  a  killing  pace,  and  when  near 
Fort  Lincoln,  on  the  Baltimore  pike,  his  horse  threw  him  headlong.  Afoot 
iiud  bewildered,  he  resolved  to  return  to  the  city,  whose  lights  he  could 
plainly  see;  but  before  doing  so  he  concealed  himself  some  time,  and 
made  some  almost  absurd  efforts  to  disguise  himself.  Cutting  a  cross 
section  from  the  woolen  undershirt  which  covered  his  muscular  arm,  he 
made  a  rude  c;ip  of  it,  and  threw  away  his  bloody  coat.  This  has  since 
been  found  in  the  woods,  and  blood  has  been  found  also  on  his  bosom  and 
sleeves.  He  also  spattered  himself  plentifully  with  mud  and  clay,  and, 
taking  an  abandoned  pick  from  the  deserted  intrenchments  near  by,  he 
struck  at  once  for  Washington. 

By  the  providence  which  always  attends  murder,  he  reached  ISivs.  Sur- 
ratt's  door  just  as  the  officers  of  the  government  were  arresting  her. 
They  seized  Payne  at  once,  who  had  an  awakward  lie  to  urge  in  his  de- 
fense— that  he  had  come  there  to  dig  a  trench.  That  night  he  dug  a  trench 
deep  and  broad  enough  for  both  of  them  to  lie  in  forever.  They  washed 
his  hands,  and  found  them  soft  and  womanish ;  his  pockets  contained 
tooth  and  nail  brushes  and  a  delicate  pocket  knife.  All  this  apparel  con- 
sorted ill  with  his  assumed  character.  He  is,  without  doubt,  Mr.  Seward's 
attempted  murderer. 

Coarse,  and  hard,  and  calm,  Mrs.  Surratt  shut  up  her  house  after  the 
murder,  and  waited  with  her  daughters  till  the  officers  came.     She  was  im- 


A  Solution  of  the  Mystery.  47 

perturbable,  and  rebuked  her  girls  for  weeping,  and  WQuld  have  gone  to 
jail  like  a  statue,  but  that  in  her  extremity,  Payne  knocked  at  her  door. 
He  had  come,  he  said,  to  dig  a  ditch  for  Mrs,  Surratt,  whom  he  very  well 
knew.  But  Mrs.  Surratt  protested  that  she  had  ever  seen  the  man  at  all, 
and  had  no  ditch  to  clean. 

"  How  fortunate,  girls,"  she  said,  "  that  these  officers  arc  here ;  this 
man  miijht  have  murdered  us  all." 

Her  effrontery  stamps  her  a-s  worthy  of  companionship  with  Booth. 
Payne  has  been  identified  by  a  lodger  of  Mrs.  Surratt's,  as  having  twice 
visited  the  house  under  the  name  of  Wood.  The  girls  will  render  valua- 
ble testimony  in  the  trial.  If  John  Surratt  were  in  custody  the  links  would 
be  complete. 

Atzerott  had  a  room  almost  directly  over  Vice-President  Johnson's.  He 
had  all  the  materials  to  do  murder,  but  lost  spirit  or  opportunity.  He  ran 
away  so  hastily  that  all  his  arms  and  baggage  were  discovered  ;  a  tremen- 
dous bowie-knife  and  a  Colt's  cavalry  revolver  were  found  between  the 
mattresses  of  his  bed.  Booth's  coat  was  also  found  there,  showing  con- 
spired flight  in  company,  and  in  it  three  boxes  of  cartridges,  a  map  of 
Maryland,  gauntlets  for  riding,  a  spur  and  a  handkerchief  marked  with  the 
name  of  Booth's  mother — a  mother's  souvenir  for  a  murderer's  pocket ! 

Atzerott  fled  alone,  and  was  found  at  the  house  of  his  uncle  in  Montgo- 
mery county.  I  do  not  know  that  any  instrument  of  murder  has  ever  made 
me  thrill  as  when  I  drew  this  terrible  bowie-knife  from  its  sheath.  Major 
O'Bierne,  of  New-York,  was  the  instigator  of  Atzerott's  discovery  and 
arrest. 

I  come  now  to  the  ride  out  of  the  city  by  the  chief  assassin  and  his  dupe. 
Harold  met  Booth  immediately  after  the  crime  in  the  next  street,  and 
they  rode  at  a  gallop  past  the  Patent  Office  and  over  Capitol  Hill. 

As  they  crossed  the  Eastern  branch  at  Uniontown,  Booth  gave  his  proper 
name  to  the  officer  at  the  bridge.  This,  which  would  seem  to  have  been 
foolish,  was,  in  reality,  very  shrewd.  The  officers  believed  that  one  of 
Booth's  accomplices  had  given  this  name  in  order  to  put  them  out  of  the 
real  Booth's  track.  So  they  made  effijrts  elsewhere,  and  so  Booth  got  a 
start.  At  midnight,  precisely,  the  two  horsemen  stopped  at  Surrattsville, 
Booth  remaining  on  his  nag  while  Harold  descended  and  knocked  lustily  at 
the  door.  Lloyd,  the  landlord,  came  down  at  once,  when  Harold  pushed 
past  him  into  the  bar,  and  obtained  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  some  of  which  he 
gave  to  Booth  immediately.  While  Booth  was  drinking,  Harold  went  up 
stairs  and  brought  down  one  of  the  carbines.  Lloyd  started  to  get  the 
other,  but  Harold  said  : 

"  We  don't  want  it ;  Booth  has  broken  his  leg  and  can't  carry  it." 

So  the  second  carbine  remained  in  the  hall,  where  the  officers  afterward 
found  it. 

As  the  two  horsemen  started  to  go  off,  Booth  cried  out  to  Lloyd : 

"  Do  you  want  to  hear  some  news  1" 

"  I  don't  care  much  about  it,"  cried  Lloyd,  by  his  own  account. 

"We  have  murdered,"  said  Booth,  "the  Pres'dent  and  Secretary  of 
State !" 

And  with  this  horrible  confession.  Booth  and  Har^^ld  dashed  away  in  the 
midnight,  across  Prince  George's  county. 

On  Saturday,  before  sunrise.  Booth  and  Harold,  who  had  ridden  all  night 
without  stopping  elsewhere,  reached  the  house  of  Dr.  Mudd,  three  miles 
from  Bryantown.  They  contracted  with  him  for  twenty-five  dollars  in 
greenbacks  to  set  the  broken  leg.     Harold,  whi>  kue^v  \^r.  Mudd,  iutro- 


I  **"    *'■■'  >!.T, 'f^g*"^"-**-- 


48  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

ducetl  Booth  under  another  name,  and  stated  that  he  had  fallen  froni  his 
horse  during  the  night.  The  doctor  remarked  of  Booth  that  he  draped  the 
lower  part  of  his  face  while  t'he  leg  was  being  set;  he  was  silent,  and  in 
pain.  Having  no  splits  in  the  house,  they  split  up  an  old-fashioned  wooden 
band-box  and  prepared  them.  The  doctor  was  assisted,  by  an  Englishman, 
who  at  the  same  time  began  to  hew  out  a  pair  of  crutches.  The  inferior 
bone  of  the  left  leg  was  brt)ken  vertically  across,  and  because  vertically  it 
did  not  yield  when  the  crippled  man  walked  upon  it. 

The  riding  boot  of  Booth  had  to  be  cut  from  his  foot :  within  were  thb 
words  "J.  Wilkes."'  The  doctor  says  he  did  not  notice  these,  but  that 
visual  defect  may-C(jfst  him  his  neck.  The  two  men  waited  around  the  house 
all  day,  but  toward  evening  they 'slipped  their  horses  from  the  stable  and 
rode  away  in  the  direction  of  Allen's  Fresh. 

Below  Bryantown  run  certain  deep  and  slimy  swamps,  along  the  belt  of 
these  Booth  and  Harold  picked  up  a  negro  named  Swan,  who  volunteered 
to  show  them  the  road  for  two  dollars ;  they  gave  him  five  more  to  show 
them'  the  route  to  Allen's  Fresh,  but  really  wished,  as  their  actions  in- 
timated, to  gain  the  house  of  one  Sam.  Coxe,  a  notorious  rebel,  and  probably 
well  advised  of  the  plot.  They  reached  the  house  at  midnight.  It  is  a 
fine  dwelling,  one  of  the  best  m  Maryland.  And  at\er  hallooing  for  some 
time,  Coxe  came  down  to  the  door  himself  As  soon  as  he  opened  it  and 
beheld  who  the  strangers  were,  he  instantly  blew  out  a  candle  he  held  in  his 
hand,  and  without  a  word  pulled  them  into  the  house,  the  negro  remaining 
in  the  yard.  The  confederates  remained  in  COxe's  house  till  4  a.  m.,  during 
which  time  the  negro  saw  them  drink  and  eat  heartily  ;  but  when  they  re- 
appeared they  sjioke  in  a  loud  tone,  so  that  Swan  could  hear  them,  against 
the  hospitality  of  Coxe.  All  this  was  meant  to  influence  the  darkey  ;  but 
their  motives  were  as  apparent  as  their  words.  He  conducted  them  three 
miles  further  on,  when  they  told  him  that  now  they  knew  the  way,  and 
giving  him  five  dollars  more — making  twelve  in  all — told  him  to  go  back. 

But  when  the  negro,  in  the  dusk  of  the  morning,  looked  after  them  as  he 
receded,  he  saw  that  both  horses'  heads  were  turned  once  more  toward 
Coxe's,  and  it  was  this  man,  doubtless,  who  harbored  the  fugitives  from 
Sunday  to  Thursday,  aided,  possibly,  by  such  neighbors  as  the  Wilsons  and 
Adamses. 

At  the  point  where  Booth  crossed  the  Potomac  the  shores  are  very  shal- 
low, and  one  must  wade  out  some  distance  to  where  a  boat  will  float.  A 
white  man  came  up  here  with  a  canoe  on  Friday,  and  tied  it  by  a  stone 
anchor.  Between  seven  and  eight  o'clock  it  disappeared,  and  in  the  after- 
noon some  men  at  work  in  Virginia,  saw  Booth  and  Harold  land,  tie  the 
boat's  rope  to  a  -stone,  and  fling  it  ashore,  and  strike  at  once  across  a 
ploughed  field  for  King  George  Court  House.  Many  folks  entertained  them 
without  doubt,  but  we  positively  hear  of  them  next  at  Port  Royal  Ferry, 
and  then  at  Garrett's  farm. 

I  close  this  article  with  a  list  of  all  who  were  at  Garrett's  farm  on  the 
death  of  Booth. 

1.  E.  J.  Conger,  )  „  ,    ,. 

f»     T  •      A   n   <  r  Detective!. 

2.  Lieut.  Ba,ter,    J 

3.  Surgeon  from  Port  Royal, 

4.  Four  Garrett  daughters. 

5.  Harold,  Booth's  accomplice, 

Soldiers. — Company  H,  Sixteenth  New- York  Volunteer  Cavalry,  Lieu- 
*enant  Ed.  P.  Doherty  commandmg:  Corporals  A.  Neugarten,  J.  Waiy, 
M,  Hornsby  :  Privates  J.  Mellington,  D.  Barker,  E.  Parylays;  W.  Mock. 


■*<«j.j 


» 

The  Detectives'  Stories,  49 

gart ;  Corporals  — Zimmer  (Co.  C),  M.  Taenaek  ;  Privates  H.  Pardman, 
J.  Meiyers,  W.  Bunin,  F.  Meekdank,  G.  Haioh,  J.  Kaien,  J.  Kelly,  J. 
Samger  (Co.  M),  G.  Zeichton,  —  Steinbury,  L.  Sweech  (Co.  A),  A.  Sweech 
(Co.  H),  F.  Diacts  ;  Sergeant  Wandell ;  Corporals  Lannekey,  Winacky ; 
Sergeant  Corbett  (Co.  L). 

Sergeant  Corbett,  who  shot  Booth,  was  the  only  man  of  the  command 
belonging  to  the  same  company  with  Lieutenant  Doherty,  Commandant, 


L  E  T  T  E  R      V  I  . 
THE  DETECTIVES'  STORIES. 

a 

Washington,  Mav  2 — e.  m. 

The  police  resources  of  the  country  have  been  fairly  tested  during  the 
past  two  weeks.  Under  the  circumstances,  the  shrewdness  and  energy  of 
both  municipal  and  national  detectives  have  been  proven  good.  The  latter 
body  has  had  a  too  partial  share  of  the  applause  thus  far,  while  the  great 
efforts  of  our  New-York  and  other  officers  have  been  overlooked.  In  the 
crowning  success  of  Doherty,  Conger,  and  Baker  on  the  Virginia  side  of 
the  water  we  have  forgotten  the  as  vigorous  and  better  sustained  pursuit 
on  the  Maryland  side. 

Yet  the  Secretary  of  War  has  thanked  all  concerned,  especially  referring 
to  many  excellent  leaders  in  the  long  hunt  through  Charles  and  St.  Mary's 
counties.  Here  the  military  and  civil  forces  together  amounted  to  quite  a 
small  army,  and  constituted  by  far  the  largest  police  organization  ever 
known  on  this  side  of  the  Aclantic. 

I  think  the  adventures  and  expedients  of  these  public  servants  worthy  of 
a  column.  It  would  be  out  of  all  proportion  to  pass  them  by  when  we 
devote  a  dozen  lines  to  every  petty  larceny  and  shoplifting. 

On  the  Friday  night  of  the  murder  the  departments  were  absolutely 
paralyzed.  The  murderers  had  three  good  hours  for  escape ;  they  had 
evaded  the  pursuit  of  lightning  by  snapping  the  telegraph  wires,  and  rumor 
filled  the  town  with  so  many  reports  that  the  first  valuable  hours,  which 
should  have  been  used  to  follow  hard  after  them,  were  consumed  in  feverish 
efforts  to  know  the  real  extent  of  the  assassination. 

Immediately  afterwards,  however,  or  on  Saturday  morning  early,  the 
provost  and  special  police  force  got  on  the  scent,  and  military  in  squada 
were  dispatched  close  upon  their  heels. 

Three  grand  pursuit*  were  organized :  one  reaching  up  the  north  bank 
of  the  Potomac  toward  Chain  bridge,  to  prevent  escape  by  that  direction 
into  Virginia,  where  Mosby,  it  was  suspected,  waited  to  hail  the  murderers; 

A  second  starting  from  Richmond,  Va.,  northward,  forming  a  bn.ad 
advancing  picket  or  skirmish  line  between  the  Blue  Ridge  and  the  br;>ad 
sea-running  streams ; 

A  third  to  scour  the  peninsula  towards  Point  Lookout. 

The  latter  region  became  the  only  one  well  examined  ;  the  northern  x- 
pedition  failed  until  advised  from  below  to  capture  Atzerott,  and  faiit-d  to 
capture  Payne.  Yet  there  were  cogent  probabilities  that  the  assassin  bad 
taken  this  route;  for  Mosby  would  have  given  them  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship. 

4  » 


50  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Captvre  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

When  that  guerrilla  heard  of  Booth's  feat,  said  Captain  Jett,  tio  ei 
claimed  : 

"  Now,  by !   I  could  take  that  man  in  my  arms." 

i         Washington,  as  a  precautionary  measure,  was  doubly  picketed  at  once; 
the  authorities  in  all  northern  towns  advised  of  the  personnel  of  the  mur 
derer,  and  requests  made  of  the  detective  chiefs  in  Baltimore,  Philadelphia, 
and  New-York,  to  forward  to  Washington  without  delay  their  best  decoys. 

A  court  of  inquiry  was  organized  on  the  moment,  and  early  in  the  week 
succeeding  rewards  were  offered.  An  individual,  and  not  the  government, 
offered  the  first  rewards. 

There  were  two  men  without  whom  the  hunt  would  have  gone  astray 
many  times. 

John  S.  Young,  chief  of  the  New- York  detective  force,  a  powerful  and 
resolute  man,  whose  great  weight  and  strength  are  matched  by  boundless 
energy,  and  both  subordinate  to  a  head  as  clear  as  the  keen  and  searching 
•warrant  of  his  eye.  This  man  has  been  in  familiar  converse  with  every 
rebel  agent  in  the  Canadas,  and  is  feared  by  them  as  they  fear  the  fates  of 
Beall  and  Kennedy.  Without  being  a  sensationist,  he  has  probably  ren- 
dered the  cleverest  services  of  the  war  to  the  general  government.  They 
sent  for  him  immediately  afler  the  tragedy,  and  he  stopped  on  the  way  for 
his  old  police  companion.  Marshal  Murray.  The  latter's  face  and  figure 
are  familiar  to  all  who  ^now  New-York ;  he  resembles  an  admiral  on  his 
quarter-deck  ;  he  is  a  detective  of  fair  and  excellent  repute,  and  has  a  some- 
what novel  pride  in  what  he  calls  "  the  most  beautiful  gallows  in  the 
United  States." 

These  officials  were  ordered  to  visit  Colonel  Ingraham's  office  and  examine 
the  little  evidence  on  hand.     They  and  their  tried  officers  formed  a  junction 
on   Sunday  afternoon  with  the  large  detective  force  of  Provost-Marshal 
Major  O'Bierne.     The  latter  commands  the  District  of  Columbia  civil  and 
"''^..  military  police.     lie  is  a  New-Yorker  and  has  been  shot  through  the  body 

in  the  field. 

The  detective  force  of  Young  and  Murray  consisted  of  Officers  Radford, 
Kelso,  Elder,  and  Hoey,  of  New- York;  Deputy -Marshal  Newcome,  foi^ 
merly  of  The  World's  city  staff;  Officers  Joseph  Pierson  and  West,  of 
Baltimore. 

Major  O'Bierne's  immediate  aids  were  Detectives  John  Lee,  Lloyd, 
Gavigan,  Coddingham,  and  Williams. 

A  detachment  of  the  Philadelphia  detective  police  force — Officers  Tag- 
gert,  George  Smith,  and  Carlin,  reporting  to  Colonel  Baker — went  in  the 
direction  of  the  North  Pole;  everybody  is  on  the  que  vive  for  them. 

To  the  provost-marshal  of  Baltimore,  MacPhail,  who  knew  the  tone  and 
bearino-  of  the  ooiintry  throughout,  was  joined  the  zealous  co-operation  of 
Officer  Lloyd,  of  Major  O'Bierne's  staff,  Aho  had  a  personal  feeling  against 
the  secessionists  of  lower  Maryland  ;  they  had  once  driven  him  away  for 
his  loyalty,  and  had  reserved  their  hospitality  for  assassins. 

Lieutenant  Commander  Gushing,!  am  informed,  also  rendered  important 
services  to  the  government  in  connection  with  the  police  operations.  Vol- 
unteer detectives,  such  as  Ex-Marshal  Lewis  and  Angelis,  were  plentiful; 
it  is  probable  that  in  the  ptch  of  the  excitement  five  hundred  detective 
officers  were  in  and  around  Washington  city.  At  the  same  time  the  secret 
police  of  Richmond  abandoned  their  ordinary  business,  and  devoted  thenir 
selves  solely  to  this  overshadowing  offense. 

No  citizen,  in  these  terrible  days,  knows  what  eyes  were  upon  him  as  he 
talked  and  walked,  nor  how  his  stature  and  guise  were  keenly  scanned  by 


The  Detectives'  Stories.  51 

■  folks  who  passed  him  absent-faced,  yet  with  his  mental  portrait  carefully 
turned  over,  the  while  some  invisible  hand  clutched  a  revolver,  and  held  a 
life  or  death  challenge  upon  his  lips. 

The  military  forces  were  commanded  by  Colonel  Welles,  of  the  Twenty- 
sixth  Michigan  regiment,  whose  activity  and  zeal  were  amply  sustained  by 
Colonel  Clendenning,  of  the  Eighth  Dlinois  cavalry,  probably  the  finest 
body  of  horse  in  the  service. 

The  first  party  to  take  the  South  Maryland  road  was  dispatched  by  Ma- 
jor O'Bierne,  and  commanded  by  Lieutenant  Lovett,  of  the  Veteran  Re- 
serves. It  consisted  of  twenty-five  cavalry  men,  with  detectives  Cotting- 
ham,  Lloyd,  and  Gavigan  ;  these  latter,  with  the  lieutenant,  kept  well  in 
advance.  They  made  inquiries  of  a  soothing  and  cautious  churactpr,  but 
saw  nothing  suspicious  until  they  arrived  at  Piscataway,  where  an  unknown 
man,  some  distance  ahead,  observed  them,  and  took  to  the  woods.  This 
was  on  Sunday  night,  forty  hours  after  the  murder. 

Guided  by  Officer  Lloyd,  the  little  band  dashed  on,  arriving  at  Bryan- 
town  on  Tuesday.  Here  they  arrested  John  Lloyd,  of  the  hotel  ut  Surratts- 
ville,  of  whom  they  had  previously  inquired  for  the  murderers,  and  he  had 
said  positively  that  he  neither  knew  them  nor  had  seen  anybody  whatever 
on  the  night  of  the  crime.  He  was  returning  in  a  wagun,  with  his  wife, 
w^hom  he  had  ordered,  the  day  before,  to  go  on  a  visit  to  Allen's  Fresh. 
The  Monday  afterward  he  started  to  bring  her  back.  This  woman,  fright- 
ened at  the  arrest,  acknowledged  at  once  that  in  her  husband's  conduct 
there  was  some  inexplicable  mystery.  lie  was  taciturn  and  defiant  as  be- 
fore, until  confronted  by  some  of  his  old  Union  neighbors. 

The  few  Unionists  of  Prince  George's  and  Charles  counties,  long  perse 
cuted  and  intimidated,  now  came  forward  and  gave  important  testimony. 

Among  these  was  one  Roby,  a  very  fat  and  very  zealous  old  gentleman, 
whose  professions  were  as  ample  as  his  perspiration.  lie  told  the  officers 
of  the  secret  meetings  for  conspiracy's  sake  at  Lloyd's  Hotel,  and  although 
a  very  John  Gilpin  on  horseback,  rode  here  and  there  to  his  great  loss  of 
wind  and  repose,  fastening  fire-coals  upon  the  guilty  or  suspected. 

Lloyd  was  turned  over  to  Mr.  Cottingham,  who  had  established  a  jail  at 
Robytown  ;  that  night  his  house  was  searched,  and  Booth's  carbine  lound 
hidden  in  the  wall.  Three  days  afterward,  Lloyd  himself  confessed — and 
his  neck  is  quite  nervous  at  this  writing. 

This  little  party,  under  the  untiring  Lovett,  examined  all  the  farm-houses 
below  Washington,  resorting  to  many  shrewd  expedients,  and  taking  note 
of  the  great  swamps  to  the  east  of  Port  Tobacco ;  they  reached  Newport 
at  last  and  fastened  tacit  guilt  upon  many  residents. 

Beyond  Bryan^own  they  overhauled  the  residence  of  Doctor  Mudd  and 
found  Booth's  boot.  This  was  before  Lloyd  confessed,  and  was  the  first 
positive  trace  the  officers  had  that  they  were  really  close  upon  the  assas- 
sins. 

I  do  not  recall  anything  more  wild  and  startling  than  this  vague  and  dan- 
gerous exploration  of  a  dimly  known,  hostile,  and  ignorant  country.  To 
these  few  detectives  we  owe  much  of  the  subsequent  successful  prosecution 
of  the  pursuit.     They  were  the  Hebrew  spies. 

By  this  time  the  country  was  filling  up  with  soldiers,  but  previously  a 
second  memorable  detective  party  went  out  under  the  personal  command 
of  Mijor  O'Bierne.  It  consisted,  besides  that  officer,  of  Lee,  D'Angeilis, 
Callahan,  Hoey,  Bostwick,  Hanover,  Bevins,  and  McHenry,  and  embarked 
at  Washington  on  a  steam-tug  for  Ghappell's  Point.  Here  a  military  sta- 
tion had  long  been  established  for  the  prevention  of  blockade  and  mail-rua 


52  The  Li/e,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

ning  across  the  Potomac.  It  was  commanded  by  Lieutenant  Laverty,and 
garrisoned  by  sixty-five  men.  On  Tuesday  night,  Major  O'Bierne's  party 
reached  this  place,  and  soon  afterwards,  a  telegraph  station  was  established 
here  by  an  invaluable  man  to  the  expedition.  Captain  Beckwitn,  General 
Grant's  chief  cypher  operator,  who  tapped  the  Point  Lookout  wire,  and 
placed  the  War  Department  within  a  moment's  reach  of  the  theater  of 
events. 

Major  O'Bierne's  party  started  at  once  over  the  worst  road  in  the  world 
for  Port  Tobacco. 

If  any  plrice  in  the  world  is  utterly  given  over  to  depravity,  it  is  Port 
Tobacco.  From  this  town,  by  a  sinuous  creek,  there  is  flat  bo;it  navigation 
to  the  Potomac,  and  across  that  river  to  Mattox's  creek.  Before  the  war 
Port  Tobacco  was  the  seat  of  a  tobacco  aristocracy  and  a  haunt  of  negro 
traders.  It  passed  very  naturally  into  a  rebel  post  for  blockade-runners 
and  a  rebel  post-office  general.  "Gambling,  corner  fighting,  and  shooting 
matches  were  its  lyceum  education.  Violence  and  ignorance  had  every  suf- 
/rage  in  the  town.  Its  people  were  smugglers,  to  all  intents,  and  there  was 
nei'ther  Bible  nor  geography  to  the  whole  region  adjacent.  Assassination 
was  never  very  unpopular  at  Port  Tobacco,  and  when  its  victim  was  a  north- 
ern president  it  became  quite  heroic.  A  month  before  the  murder  a  pro- 
vost-marshal near  by  wa?  slain  in  his  bed-ehamber.  For  such  a  town  and 
district  the  detective  police  were  the  only  effective  missionaries.  The  hotel 
here  is  called  the  Brawner  House  ;  it  has  a  bar  in  the  nethermost  cellar, 
and  its  patrons,  carousing  in  that  imperfect  light,  look  like  the  denizens  of 
some  burglar's  crib,  talking  robbery  between  their  cups;  its  dining-room 
is  dark  and  tumble-down,  and  the  cuisine  bears  traces  of  Caffir  origin  ;  a 
barbecue  is  nothing  to  a  dinner  there.  The  Court  House  of  Port  Tobacco 
is  the  most  superflous  house  in  the  place,  except  the  church.  It  stands  in 
the  center  of  the  town  in  a  square,  and  the  dwellings  lie  about  it  closely, 
as  if  to  throttle  justice.  Five  hundred  people  exist  in  Port  Tobacco  ;  life 
there  reminds  me,  in  connection  with  the  slimy  river  and  the  adjacent 
swamps,  of  the  great  reptile  period  of  the  world,  when  iguanadons  and 
pterodactyls  and  pleosauri  ate  each  other. 

Into  this  abstract  of  Gomorrah  the  few  detectives  went  like  angels  who 
visited  Lot.  They  pretended  to  be  enquiring  for  friends,  or  to  have  busi 
ness  designs,  and  the  first  people  they  heard  of  were  Harold  and  Atzerott. 
The  latter  had  visited  Port  Tobacco  three  weeks  before  the  murder,  and  in- 
timated at  that  time  his  design  of  fleeing  the  country.  But  everybody 
denied  having  seen  him  subsequent  to  the  crime. 

Atzerott  had  been  in  town  just  prior  to  the  crime.  He  had  been  living  with 
a  widow  woman  named  Mrs.  Wheeler,  by  whom  he  had  several  children,  and 
she  was  immediately  called  upon  by  Major  O'Bierne.  He  did  not  tell  her 
what  Atzerott  had  done,  but  vaguely  hinted  that  he  had  committed  some 
terrible  crime,  and  that  since  he  had  done  her  wrong,  she  could  vindicate 
both  herself  and  justice  by  telling  his  whereabouts.  The  woman  admitted 
that  Atzerott  had  been  her  bane,  but  she  loved  him,  and  refused  to  betray 

him. 

His  trunk  was  found  in  her  garret,  and  in  it  the  key  to  his  paint  shop  m 
Port  Tobacco.  The  latter  was  fruitlessly  searched,  but  the  probable  where- 
abouts of  Atzerott  in  Mongomery  county  obtained,  and  Major  O'Bierne  tele- 
graphing there  immediately,  the  desperate  fellow  was  found  and  locked  up. 
A  man  named  Crangle  who  had  succeeded  Atzerott  in  Mrs.  Wheeler's  pli- 
able afit'.ctions,  was  arrested  at  once  arfd  put  in  jail.     A  number  of  disloyal 


KASTLAND. 


X 


/ 


iK»-=» 


J 


The  Detectives'  Stories.  55 

people  were  indicated  or  "spotted"  as  in  no  wise  angry  at  the  President's 
taking  oHj  and  for  all  such  a  provost  prison  was  established. 

A  few  miles  from  Port  Tobacco  dwelt  a  solitary  woman,  who,  when  ques- 
tioned, said  that  for  many  nights  she  had  heard,  after  she  had  retired  to  bed, 
a  man  enter  her  cellar  and  lie  there  all  night,  departing  before  dawn.  Ma- 
jor O'Bierne  and  the  detectives  ordered  her  to  place  a  lamp  in  her  window 
the  next  night  she  heard  him  enter,  and  at  dark  they  established  a  cordon 
of  armed  officers  around  the  place.  At  midnight  punctually  she  exhibited 
the  light,  when  the  officers  broke  into  the  house  and  thoroughly  searched  it, 
without  result.  Yet  the  woman  positively  asserted  that  she  had  heard  the 
man  enter. 

It  was  afterward  found  that  she  was  of  diseased  mind. 

By  this  time  the  military  had  come  up  in  considerable  numbers,  and  Ma- 
jor O'Bierne  was  enabled  to  confer  with  Major  Wait,  of  the  Eighth  Illi- 
nois. 

The  major  had  pushed  on  Monday  night  to  Leonardstown,  and  pretty 
well  overhauled  that  locality. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  preparations  were  made  to  hunt  the  swamps 
around  Chapmantown,  Beantovvn,  and  Allen's  Fresh.  Booth  had  been  en- 
tirely lost  since  his  departure  from  Mudd's  house,  and  it  was  believed  that 
he  had  either  pushed  on  for  the  Potomac  or  taken  to  the  swamps.  The 
officers  sagaciously  determined  to  follow  him  to  the  one  and  to  explore  the 
other. 

The  swamps  tributary  to  the  various  branches  of  the  Wicomico  river, 
of  which  the  chief  feeder  is  Allen's  creek,  bear  various  names,  such  as  Jor- 
dan's swamp,  Atchall's  swamp,  and  Scrub  swamp.  There  are  dense  growths 
pi  dogwood,  gum,  and  beech,  planted  in  sluices  of  water  and  bog  ;  and  their 
width  varies  from  a  half  mile  to  four  miles,  while  their  length  is  upwards 
of  sixteen  miles.  Frequent  deep  ponds  dot  this  wilderness  place,  with  here 
and  there  a  stretch  of  dry  soil,  but  no  human  being  inhabits  the  malarious 
extent ;  even  a  hunted  murderer  would  shrink  from  hiding  there.  Serpents 
and  slimy  lizards  are  the  only  denizens ;  sometimes  the  coon  takes  refuge 
in  this  desert  from  the  hounds,  and  in  the  soft  mud  a  thousand  odorous 
muskrats  delve,  with  now  and  then  a  tremorous  otter.  But  not  even  the 
hunted  negro  dares  to  fathom  the  treacherous  clay,  nor  make  himself  a  fel- 
low of  the  slimy  reptiles  which  reign  absolute  in  this  terrible  solitude.  Here 
the  soldiers  prepa.'ed  to  seek  for  the  President's  assassin,  and  no  search  of 
the  kind  has  ever  been  so  tnorough  and  patient.  The  Shawnee,  in  his  strong 
hold  of  despair  in  the  heart  of  Okeefeuokee,  would  scarcely  have  changed 
homes  with  Wilkes  Booth  and  David  Harold,  hiding  in  this  inhuman 
country. 

The  military  forces  deputed  to  pursue  the  fugitives  were  seven  hundred 
men  of  the  Eighth  Illinois  cavalry,  six  hundred  men  of  the  Twenty-second 
Colored  troops,  and  one  hundred  men  of  the  Sixteenth  New  York.  These 
swept  the  swamps  by  detachments,  the  mass  of  them  dismounted,  with 
cavalry  at  the  belts  of  clearing,  interspersed  with  detectives  at  frequent  in- 
tervals in  the  rear.  They  first  formed  a  strong  picket  cordon  entirely 
around  the  swamps,  and  then,  drawn  up  in  two  orders  of  battle,  advanced 
boldly  into  the  bogs  by  two  lines  of  march.  One  party  swept  the  swamps 
longitudinally,  the  other  pushed  straight  across  their  smallest  diameter. 

A  similar  march  has  not  been  made  during  the  war ;  the  soldiers  were 
only  a  few  paces  apart,  and  in  steady  order  they  took  the  ground  as  it  came, 
now  plunging  to  their  arm-pits  in  foul  sluices  of  gangrened  water,  now 


The  Life,    Crhne,  and  Capture  of  John    \Vilke$  Booth. 

hopelessly  submerged  in  slime,  now  attacked  by  legions  of  wood  ticks,  now 
tempting  some  unfaithful  log  or  greenishly  solid  morass,  and  plunging  to 
the  tip  of  the  skull  in  poison  stagnation  ;  the  tree  boughs  rent  their  uni- 
forms ;  they  came  out  upon  dry  land,  many  of  them  vithout  a  rag  of  gar- 
ment scratched,  and  gashed,  and  spent,  repugnant  to  themselves,  and  dis- 
gusting to  those  who  saw  them  ;  but  not  one  trace  of  Booth  or  Harold  was 
any  where  found.  Wherever  they  might  be,  the  swamps  did  not  contain 
them. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  a  force  started  from  Point  Lookout,  and 
swept  the  narrow  necks  of  Saint  Mary's  quite  up  to  Medley's  Neck.  To 
complete  the  search  in  this  part  of  the  country,  Colonel  Wells  and  Major 
O'Bierne  started  with  a  force  of  cavalry  and  infantry  for  Chappel  Point; 
they  took  the  entire  peninsula  as  before,  and  marched  in  close  skirmish 
line  across  it,  but  without  finding  anything  of  note.  The  matter  of  inclosing 
a  house  was  by  cavalry  advances,  which  held  all  the  avenues  till  mounted 
detectives  came  up.  Many  strange  and  ludicrous  adventures  occured  on 
each  of  these  expeditions.  While  the  forces  were  going  up  Cobb's  neck, 
there  was  a  counter  forde  coming  down  from  Allen's  Fresh. 

Major  O'Bierne  started  for  Leonardstown  with  his  detective  force,  and 
played  off  Lave rty  as  Booth,  and  Hoey  as  Harold.  These  two  advanced 
to  fiirm-houses  and  gave  their  assumed  names,  asking  at  the  same  time  for 
assistance  and  shelter.  They  were  generally  avoided,  except  by  one  man 
named  Claggert,  who  told  them  they  might  hide  in  the  woods  behind  his 
house.  When  Claggert  was  arrested,  however  he  stated  that  he  meant  to 
hide  them  only  to  give  them  up.  While  on  this  adventure,  a  man  who  had 
heard  of  the  reward  came  very  near  shooting  Laverty.  The  ruhe  now  be- 
came hazardous  and  the  detectives  resumed  their  real  characters.  % 

I  have  not  time  to  go  into  the  detail  of  this  long  and  excellent  hunt.  My 
letter  of  yesterday  described  how  the  detectives  of  Mr.  Young  and  Marshal 
Murray  examined  the  negro  Swan,  and  traced  Booth  to  the  house  of  Sam 
Coxe,  the  richest  rebel  in  Charles  county.  There  is  a  gap  in  the  evidence 
between  the  arrival  of  Booth  at  this  place  and  his  crossing  the  Potomac 
above  Swan  Point,  in  a  stolen  or  purposely-provided  canoe.  But  as  Coxe's 
house  is  only  ten  miles  from  the  river,  it  is  possible  that  he  made  the  pas- 
sage of  the  intermediate  country  undiscovered 

One  Mills,  a  rebel  mail-carrier,  also  arrested,  saw  Booth  and  Harold 
lurking  along  the  river  bank  on  Friday  ;  he  referred  Major  O'Bierne  to  one 
Claggert,  a  rebel,  as  having  seen  them  also ;  but  Claggert  held  his  tongue, 
and  went  to  jail.  On  Saturday  night.  Major  O'Bierne,  thus  assured,  also 
crossed  the  Potomac  with  his  detectives  to  Boon's  farm,  where  the.fugi- 
tives  had  landed.  While  collecting  information  here  a  gunboat  swung  up 
the  stream,  and  threatened  to  fire  on  the  party. 

It  was  now  night,  and  all  the  party  worn  to  the  ground  with  long  travel 
and  want  of  sleep.  Lieutenant  Laverty's  men  went  a  short  distance  down 
the  country  and  gave  up,  but  Major  O'Bierne,  with  a  single  man,  pushed  all 
night  to  King  George's  court-house,  and  next  day,  Sumiay,  re-em  barked  for 
Chappell's  Point.  Hence  he  telegraphed  his  information,  and  asked  permis- 
sion to  pursue,  promising  to  catch  the  assassins  before  they  reached  Port 
Jioyal. 

rhis  the  department  refused.  Colonel  Baker's  men  were  delegated  tc 
make  th',-.  pursuit  with  rhe  able  Lieutenant  Doherty,  and  O'Bierne,  who  was 
the  most  active,  and  successful  spirit  in  the  chase,  returned  to  Washington, 
cheerful  and  contented. 


The  Martyr.  57 

At  Mrs.  Surratt's  Washington  house,  at  the  Pennsylvania  TTotol,  Wash- 
ington, and  at  Surrattsville,  the  Booth  plot  was  almost  entirely  arranged. 
These  three  places  will  be  relics  of  conspiracy  forever. 

Harold  said  to  Lieutenant  Doherty,  after  the  latter  had  dragged  him 
from  the  barn. 

"  Who's  that  man  in  there  *  It  can't  be  Booth ;  he  told  me  his  name  was 
Lovd." 

He  further  said  that  he  had  begged  food  for  Booth  from  house  to  house 
while  the  latter  hid  in  the  woods. 

The  confederate  captain,  Willie  Jett,  who  had  given  Booth  a  HP  behind 
his  saddle  from  Port  Royal  to  Garrett's  farm,  was  then  courting  a  Mias 
Goldmann  at  Bowling  Green ;  his  traveling  companions  were  Lieutenants 
Ruggles  and  Burbridge. 

Payne,  the  assassin  of  the  Sewards,  was  arrested  by  Officers,  Sampson, 
of  the  sub-treasury,  and  Devoe,  acting  under  General  Alcott.  The  latter 
had  besides,  Officers  Marsh  and  Clancy  (a  stenographer). 

The  reward  for  the  capture  of  Booth  will  be  distributed  between  very 
many  men.  The  negro.  Swan,  will  get  as  much  of  it  as  he  deserves.  It 
amounts  to  about  eiglity  thousand  dollars,  but  the  War  Department  may  in- 
increase  it  at  discretion.  The  entire  rewards  amount  to  a  hundred  and 
sixty  odd  thousand.     Major  O'Bierne  should  get  a  large  part  of  it  as  well. 

This  story  which  I  must  close  abruptly,  deserves  to  be  re-written,  with 
all  its  accessory  endeavours.  What  I  have  said  is  in  skeleton  merely, 
and  far  from  exhaustive. 


LETTER    VII. 
THE  MARTYB. 


Washingtoh,  May  14. 

I  am  sitting  in  the  President's  office.  He  was  here  very  lately,  but  he 
will  not  return  to  dispossess  me  of  this  high-backed  chair  he  filled  so  long, 
nor  resume  his  daily  work  at  the  table  where  I  am  writing. 

There  are  here  only  Major  Hay  and  the  friend  who  accompanies  me.  A 
bright-faced  boy  runs  in  and  out,  darkly  attired,  so  that  his  fob-chain  of  gold 
is  the  only  relief  to  his  mourning  garb.  This  is  little  Tad.,  the  pet  of  the 
White  House.  That  great  death,  with  which  the  world  rings,  has  made 
upon  him  only  the  light  impression  which  all  things  make  upon  childhood. 
He  will  live  to  be  a  man  pointed  out  everywhere,  for  his  father's  sake ;  and 
as  folks  look  at  him,  the  tableau  of  the  murder  will  seem  to  encircle  him. 

The  room  is  long  and  high,  and  so  thickly  hung  with  maps  that  the  color 
of  the  wall  cannot  be  discerned.  The  President's  table  at  which  I  am  seat- 
ed, adjoins  a  window  at  the  farthest  corner ;  and  to  the  left  of  my  chair  as 
I  recline  in  it,  there  is  a  large  table  before  an  empty  grate,  around  which 
there  are  many  chairs,  where  the  cabinet  used  to  assemble.  The  carpet  is 
trodden  thin,  and  the  brilliance  of  its  dyes  is  lost.  The  furniture  is  of  the 
formal  cabinet  class,  stately  and  semi-comfortable;  there  are  book  cas«s, 


.S         ...    _  .  __L. 


58  Tlie  Life^   Crinu_  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

sprinkled  with  the  sparse  library  of  a  country  lawyer,  but  lately  plethoric, 
like  the  thin,  body  which  has  departed  in  its  coffin.  They  are  taking  away 
Mr.  Lincoln's  private  effects,  to  deposit  them  wheresoever  his  family  may 
abide,  and  the  emptiness  of  the  place,  on  this  sunny  Sunday,  revives  that 
feeline:  of  desolation  from  which  the  land  has  scarce  recovered.  I  rise 
from  my  seat  and  examine  the  maps;  they  are  from  the  coast  survey  and 
engineer  departments,  and  exhibit  all  the  contested  grounds  of  the  war ; 
there  are  pencil  lines  upon  them  where  some  one  has  traced  the  route  of 
armies,  and  planned  the  strategic  circumferences  of  campaigns.  Was  it 
the  dead  President  who  so  followed  the  march  of  empire,  and  dotted  the 
sites  of  shock  and  overthrow  1 

Here  is  the  Manassas  country — here  the  long  reach  of  the  wasted  Sheii- 
andoah  ;  here  the  wavy  line  of  the  James  and  the  sinuous  peninsula.  The 
wide  campagna  of  the  gulf  country  sways  in  the  Potomac  breeze  that  fil- 
ters in  at  the  window,  and  the  Mississippi  climbs  up  the  wall,  with  blotches 
of  blue  and  red  to  show  where  blood  gushed  at  the  bursting  of  deadly 
bombs.  So,  in  the  half-gloomy,  half-grand  apartment,  roamed  the  tall  and 
wrinkled  figure  whom  the  country  had  summoned  from  his  plain  home  into 
mighty  history,  with  the  geography  of  the  republic  drawn  into  a  narrow 
compass  so  that  he  might  lay  his  great  brown  hand  upon  it  everywhere. 
And  walking  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro,  to  measure  the  destinies  of  arms,  he 
often  stopped,  with  his  thoughtful  eyes  upon  the  carpet,  to  ask  if  his  life 
were  real  and  if  he  were  the  arbiter  of  so  tremendous  issues,  or  whether 
it  was  not  all  a  fever-dream,  snatched  from  his  sofa  in  the  routine  office  of 
the  Prairie  state. 

There  is  but  one  picture  on  the  marble  mantel  over  the  cold  grate — John 
Bright,  a  photograph. 

1  i  an  well  imagine  how  the  mind  of  Mr.  Lincoln  often  went  afiir  to  the 
face  of  Bright,  who  said  so  kindly  things  of  him  when  Europp  was  mock- 
ing his  homely  guise  and  provincial  phraseology.  To  Mr.  Luico^^  ^'^hn 
Bright  was  the  standard-bearer  of  America  and  democracy  in  the  old 
world.  He  thrilled  over  Bright's  bold  denunciations  of  peer  and  "  Privv 
lege,"  and  stretched  his  long  arm  across  the  Atlantic  to  take  that  daring 
Quaker  innovator  by  the  hand. 

I  see  some  books  on  the  table  ;  perhaps  they  have  lain  there  undisturbed 
since  the  reader's  dimming  eyes  grew  nerveless.  A  parliamentary  manual, 
a  Thesaurus,  and  two  books  of  humor,  "  Orpheus  C.  Kerr,"  and  "  Artemus 
Ward."  These  last  were  read  by  Mr.  Lincoln  in  the  pauses  of  his  hard 
day's  labor.  Their  tenure  here  bears  out  the  popular  verdict  of  his  par- 
tiality for  a  good  joke  ;  and,  through  the  window,  from  the  seat  of  Mr. 
Lincoln,  I  see  across  the  grassy  grounds  of  the  capitol,  the  broken  shaft  of 
the  Washington  Monument,  the  long  bridge  and  the  fort-tipped  Heights  of 
Arlington,  reaching  down  to  the  shining  river  side.  These  scenes  he  looked 
at  often  to  catch  some  freshness  of  leaf  and  water,  and  often  raised  the  sash 
to  let  the  world  rush  in  where  only  the  nation  abided,  and  hence  on  that 
awful  night,  he  departed  early,  to  forget  this  room  and  its  close  applications 
in  the  abandon  of  the  theater. 

I  wonder  if  that  were  the  least  of  Booth's  crimes — to  slay  this  public 
servant  in  the  stolen  hour  of  recreation  he  enjoyed  but  seldom.  We 
worked  his  life  out  here,  and  killed  him  when  he  asked  a  holiday. 

Outside  of  this  room  there  is  an  office,  where  his  secretaries  sat — a  room 
more  narrow  but  as  long — and  opposite  this  adjacent  office,  a  second  door, 
directly  behind  Mr.  Lincoln's  chair  leads  by  a  private  passage  to  his  family 
quarters.     This  passage  is  his  only  monument  in  the  building;  he  added 


/ 


The  Jdartyr.  59 

nor  subtracted  nothing  else ;  it  tells  a  long  story  of  duns  and  loiterers, 
contract-hunters  and  seekers  for  commissions,  garrulous  parents  on  paltry 
errands,  toadies  without  measure  and  talkers  without  conscience.  They 
pressed  upon  him  through  the  great  door  opposite  his  window,  and  hat  in 
hand,  come  courtsying  to  his  chair,  with  an  obsequious  "Mr.  President!" 

If  he  dared;  though  the  chief  magistrate  and  commander  of  the  army  an  ' 
navy,  to  go  out  of  the  great  door,  these  vampires  leaped  upon  him  with 
their  Baliylonian  pleas,  and  barred  his  walk  to  his  hearthside.  He  could 
not  insult  them  since  it  was  not  in  his  nature,  and  perhaps  many  of  them 
had  really  urgent  errands.  So  he  calltnl  up  the  carpenter  and  ordered  a 
strategic  route  cut  from  his  office  to  his  hearth,  and  perhaps  told  of  it  after 
with  much  merriment. 

Here  should  be  written  the  biography  of  his  official  life — in  the  room 
where  have  concentrated  all  the  wires  of  action,  and  where  have  proceeded 
the  resolves  which  vitalized  in  historic  deeds.  But  only  the  great  measures, 
however  carried  out,  were  conceived  in  this  office.  The  little  ones  proceeded 
from  other  places. 

Here  once  came  Mr,  Stanton,  saying  in  his  hard  and  positive  way : 

"Mr.  Lincoln,  I  have  found  it  expedient  to  disgrace  and  arrest  General 
Stone." 

"  Stanton,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln,  with  an  emotion  of  pain,  "  when  you  con- 
sidered it  necessary  to  imprison  General  Stone,  I  am  glad  you  did  not 
consult  me  about  it." 

And  for  lack  of  such  consultation.  General  Stone,  I  learn,  now  lies  a 
maniac  in  the  asylum.  The  groundless  pretext,  upon  which  he  suffered  the 
reputation  of  treason,  issued  from  the  Department  of  War — not  from  this 
office. 

But  as  to  his  biography,  it  is  to  be  written  by  Colonel  Nicolay  and 
Major  Hay.  They  are  to  go  to  Paris  together,  one  as  attache  of  legation, 
the  other  as  consul,  and  while  there,  will  undertake  the  labor.  They  are 
the  only  men  who  know  his  life  jvell  enough  to  exhaust  it,  having  followed 
his  official  tasks  as  closely  as  they  shared  his  social  hours. 

Major  Hay  is  a  gentleman  of  literary  force.  Colonel  Nicolay  has  a  fine 
judgment  of  character  and  public  measures.  Together  they  should  satisfy 
both  curiosity  and  history. 

As  1  hear  from  my  acquaintances  here  these  episodes  of  the  President's 
life,  I  recall  many  reminiscences  of  his  ride  from  Springfield  to  Harrisburg, 
over  much  of  which  I  passed.  Then  he  lefl  home  and  became  an  inhabi- 
tant of  history.  His  face  was  solid  and  healthy,  his  step  young,  his  speech 
and  manner  bold  and  kindly.  I  saw  him  at  Trenton  stand  in  the  Legis- 
lature, and  say,  in  his  conversational  intonation : 

"  We  may  have  to  put  the  foot  down  firm." 

How  should  we  have  hung  upon  his  accents  then  had  we  anticipated  hia 
virtues  and  his  fate. 

Death  is  requisite  to  make  opinion  grave.  We  looked  upon  Mr.  Lincoln 
then  as  an  amusing  sensation,  and   there  was  much  guffaw  as  he  was  re- 

farded  by  the  populace ;  he  had  not  passed  out  of  partisan  ownership. 
<ittle  by  little,  afterward,  he  won  esteem,  and  often  admiration,  until  the 
measure  of  his  life  was  full,  and  the  victories  he  had  achieved  made  the 
world  applaud  him.  Yet,  at  this  date,  the  President  was  sadly  changed 
Four  years  of  perplexity  and  devotion  had  wrinkled  his  face,  and  stooped 
his  shoulders,  and  the  failing  eyes  that  glared  upon  the  play  closed  as  hi? 
mission  was  completed,  and  the  world  had  been  educated  enough  to  com 
prehend  him. 


60  The  Lifty  Crime,  and   Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

The  White  House  has  been  more  of  a  Republican  mansion  under  his  con- 
trol than  for  many  administrations.  Uncouth  guests  came  to  it  ol'ten, 
typical  of  the  simple  western  civilization  of  which  he  was  a  graduate, 
and  while  no  coarse  altercation  has  ever  ensued,  the  portal  has  swung 
wide  for  five  years. 

A  friend,  connected  with  a  Washington  newspaper,  told  me  that  he  had 
occasion  to  see  Mr.  Lincoln  one  evening,  and  found  that  the  latter  had 
gone  to  bed.  But  he  was  told  to  sit  down  in  the  ofiice,  and  directly  the 
President  entered.  He  wore  only  a  night  shirt,  and  his  long,  lank  hirsute 
limbs,  as  he  sat  down,  inclined  the  guest  to  laughter.  Mr.  Lincoln  dis- 
posed of  his  request  at  once,  and  manifested  a  desire  to  talk.  So  he 
reached  for  the  cane  which  my  friend  carried  and  conversed  in  this  manner: 

"  I  always  used  a  cane  when  I  was  a  boy.  It  was  a  freak  of  mine.  My 
favorite  one  was  a  knotted  beech  stick,  and  I  carved  the  head  myself. 
There's  a  mighty  amount  of  character  in  sticks.  Don't  you  think  so  ? 
You  have  seen  these  fishing  poles  that  fit  into  a  cane?  Well,  that  was  an 
old  idea  of  mine.  Dogwood  clubs  were  favorite  ones  with  the  boys.  I 
'spose  they  use'em  yet.  Hickory  is  too  heavy,  unless  you  get  it  from  h 
young  sapling.  Have  you  ever  noticed  how  a  stick  in  one's  hand  will 
change  his  appearance?  Old  women  and  witches  would'nt  look  so  without 
sticks.     Meg  Merrilies  understands  that." 

Li  this  way  my  friend,  who  is  a  clerk  in  a  newspaper  office,  heard  the 
President  talk  for  an  hour.  The  undress  of  the  man  and  the  witness  of  his 
subject  would  be  staples  for  merriment  if  we  did  not  reflect  that  his  great- 
ness was  of  no  conventional  cast,  that  the  playfulness  of  his  nature  and  the 
simplicity  of  his  illustration  lightened  public  business  but  never  arrested 
it. 

Another  gentleman,  whom  I  know,  visited  the  President  in  high  dudgeon 
one  night.  He  was  a  newspaper  proprietor  and  one  of  his  editors  had  been 
arrested. 

"  Mr.  Lincoln,"  he  said,  "  1  have  been  off  electioneering  for  your  re-elec- 
tion, and  in  my  absence  you  have,  had  my  editor  arrested.  1  won't  stand 
it,  sir.     I  have  fought  better  administrations  than  yours." 

"Why,  John,"  said  the  President,  "I  don't  know  much  about  it.  I 
suppose  your  boys  have  been  too  euterprizing.  The  fact  is,  1  don't  inter- 
fere with  the  press  much,  but  I  suppose  I  am  responsible." 

"  I  want  you  to  order  the  man's  release  to-night,"  said  the  applicant. 
"  I  shan't  leave  here  till  I  get  it.  In  fact,  1  am  the  man  who  should  be 
arrested.     Why  don't  you  send  me  to  Capitol  Hill  ?" 

This  idea  pleased  the  President  exceedingly.  'He  laughed  the  other  into 
good  humor. 

"  In  fact,"  he  said,  "  I  am  under  restraint  here,  and  glad  of  any  pretext 
to  release  a  journalist." 

So  he  wrote  the  order,  and  the  writer  got  his  liberty. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this,  however,  that  the  President  was  a  de- 
votee to  I'terature.  He  had  no  professional  enthusiasm  for  it.  The  liter- 
ary coterie  of  the  Whiw;  House  got  little  flattery  but  its  members  were 
treated  as  agreeable  citizens  and  not  as  the  architects  of  any  body's  for- 
tune. 

Willis  went  there  much  for  awhile,  but  yielded  to  his  old  habit  of  gos- 
siping about  the  hall  paper  and  the  teapots.     Emerson  went  there  once, 
and  w:is  deferred  to  us  if  ho  were  anything  but  a  phifosopher.     Yet  he  sO' 
fer  grasped  the  character  of  his  host  as  to  indite  that  noble  humanitarian 
eulogy  upon  him,  delivered  at  Concord,  and  printed  in  the  Wobld.     U 


The  Martyr.  61 

will  not  do  to  say  definitely  in  this  notice  how  several  occasional  writers 
visited  the  White  House,  heard  the  President's  views  and  assented  to  theni, 
and  afterward  abused  him.  But  these  attained  no  remembrance  nor  tart 
reproach  from  that  least  retaliatory  of  men.  He  harbored  no  malice,  and 
is  said  to  have  often  placed  himself  on  the  stand-point  of  Davis  and  Lee, 
and  accounted  for  their  defection  while  he  could  not  excuse  it. 

He  was  a  good  reader,  and  took  all  the  leading  New-York  dailies  every 
day.  His  secretaries  perused  them  and  selected  all  the  items  which  would 
interest  the  President;  these  were  read  to  him  and  considered.  He  bought 
few  new  books,  but  seemed  ever  alive  to  works  of  comic  value;  the  vein 
of  humor  in  him  was  not  boisterous  in  its  manifestations,  but  touched  the 
geniality  of  his  nature,  and  he  reproduced  all  that  he  absorbed,  to  elucidate 
Bome  new  issue,  or  turn  away  argument  by  a  laugh. 

As  a  jester,  Mr.  Lincoln's  tendency  was  caricatured  by  the  prints,  but 
not  exaggerated.  He  probably  told  as  many  stories  as  are  attributed  to 
him.  Nor  did  he,  as  is  averred,  indulge  in  these  jests  on  solemn  occasions. 
No  man  felt  with  such  personal  intensity  the  extent  of  the  casualities  of 
his  time,  and  he  often  gravely  reasoned  whether  he  could  be  in  any  way 
responsible  for  the  bloodshed  and  devastation  over  which  it  was  his  duty 
to  preside. 

An  acquaintance  of  mine — a  private — once  went  to  him  to  plead  for  a 
man's  life.  He  had  never  seen  the  man  for  whom  he  pleaded,  and  had  no 
acquaintance  with  the  man's  family.  Mr.  Lincoln  was  touched  by  his  dis- 
interestedness, and  said  to  him  : 

"  U  1  were  anything  but  the  President,  I  would  be  constantly  working 
as  vou  have  done." 

Whenever  a  doubt  of  one's  guilt  lay  on  his  mind,  the  man  was  spared 
by  his  direct  interference. 

There  was  an  entire  absence  in  the  President's  character  of  the  heroic  ele- 
ment. He  would  do  a  great  deed  in  deshabille  as  promptly  as  in  full  dress. 
He  never  aimed  to  be  brilliant,  unconsciously  understanding  that  a  great 
man's  brilliancy  is  to  be  measured  by  the  "wholeness"  and  synthetic  cast 
of  his  career  rather  than  by  any  fitful  ebullitions.  For  that  reason  we  look 
in  vain  through  his  messages  for  "points."  His  point  was  not  to  turn  a  sen- 
tence or  an  epigram,  but  to  win  an  effect,  regradless  of  the  route  to  it. 

He  was-  coinmonplace  in  his  talk,  and  Chesterfield  would  have  had  no 
patience  with  him  ;  his  dignity  of  character  lay  in  his  uprightness  rather 
than  in  his  formal  manner.  Members  of  his  government  often  reviewed 
him  plainly  in  his  presence.  Yet  he  divined  the  true  course,  while  they 
only  argued  it  out. 

His  good  feeling  was  not  only  personal,  but  national.  He  had  no  pre- 
judice against  any  race  or  potentate.  And  his  democracy  was  of  a  pi-acti- 
cal,  rather  than  of  a  demonstrative,  nature.  He  was  not  Marat,  but  Mo- 
reau — not  Paine  and  Jefferson,  but  Franklin. 

His  domestic  life  was  like  a  parlor  of  night-time,  lit  by  the  equal  grate 
of  his  genial  and  uniform  kindness.  Young  Thaddy  played  with  him 
upon  the  carpet ;  Robert  came  home  from  the  war  and  talked  to  his 
father  as  to  a  school-mate,  he  was  to  Mrs.  Lincoln  as  chivalrous  on  the 
last  day  of  his  life  as  when  he  courted  her.  I  have  somewhere  seen  a 
picture  of  Henry  IV.  of  France,  riding  his  babies  on  his  back :  that  was 
the  President. 

So  dwelt  the  citizen  who  is  gone — a  model  in  character  if  not  in  cere 
mony,  for  good  men  to  come  who  will  take  his  place  in  the  same  White 
House,    and    find   their  generation  comparing  them  to   the  man  thought 


62  The  Life   Crime  and  Capture  of  John   Wilkes  Booth. 

worthy  of  assassination.  I  am  glad  to  sit  here  in  his  chair,  where  he  has 
bent  so  often, — in  the  atmosphere  of  the  household  he  purified,  in  the 
sight  of  the  green  grass  and  the  blue  river  he  hallowed  by  gazing  upon,  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  nation  he  preserved  for  the  people,  and  close  the 
list  of  bloody  deeds,  of  desperate  fights  of  swift  expiations,  of  renowned 
obsequies  of  which  I  have  written,  by  inditing  at  his  table  the  goodness 
of  his  life  and  the  eternity  of  his  memory. 


LETTER    VIII. 
THE  TRIAIi. 


"Washington,  May  26. 

The  most  exciting  trial  of  our  times  has  obtained  a  very  meager  com- 
memoration in  all  but  its  literal  features.  The  evidence  adduced  in  the 
course  of  it.  has  been  too  faithfully  reported,  through  its  far-fetched  and 
monotonous  irregularities,  but  nobody  realizes  the  extraordinary  scene 
from  which  so  many  columns  emanate,  either  by  aid  of  the  reporters' 
scanty  descriptions,  or  by  the  purblind  sketches  of  the  artists. 

Now  that  the  evidence  is  growing  vapid,  and  the  obstinacy  of  the  mili- 
tary commission  has  lost  its  coarse  zest,  we  may  find  enough  readers  to 
warrant  a  fuller  sketch  of  the  conspirators'  prison. 

About  a  mile  below  Washington,  where  the  high  Potomac  Blufis  meet 
the  marshy  border  of  the  Eastern  branch,  stands  the  United  States  arsenal, 
a  series  of  long,  mathematically  uninteresting  brick  buildings,  with  a 
broad  lawn  behind  them,  open  to  t-he  water,  and  level  military  plazas,  on 
-which  are  piled  pyramids  of  shell  and  ball,  among  acres  of  cannon  ana 
cannon-carriages,  and  caissons.  A  high  wall,  reaching  circularly  around 
these  buildings,  shows  above  it,  as  one  looks  from  Washington,  the  barred 
windows  of  an  older  and  more  gloomy  structure  than  the  rest,  which 
forms  the  city  front  of  the  group  of  which  it  is  the  principal.  This  was  a 
penitentiary,  but,  long  ago  added  to  the  arsenal,  it  has  been  re-transform- 
ed to  a  court-room  and  jail,  and  in  its  third,  or  uppermost  story,  the  Milita- 
ry  Commission  is  sitting. 

The  main  road  to  the  arsenal  is  by  a  wide  and  vacant  avenue,  which 
abuts  against  a  gate  where  automaton  sentries  walk,  but  the  same  gate  can 
best  be  reached  on  foot  by  the  shores  of  the  Potomac,  in  the  sight  of  the 
forts,  the  shipping,  and  Alexandria. 

The  scene  at  the  arsenal  in  time  of  peace  is  common-place  enough,  ex- 
cept that  across  the  Eastern  Branch  the  towers  of  the  lunatic  asylum, 
perched  upon  a  height,  look  down  baronially ;  but  this  trial  of  murderers 
has  made  the  spot  a  fair. 

A  whole  company  of  volunteers  keeps  the  gate,  through  which  are  pass- 
ing cabs,  barouches,  officers'  ambulances,  and  a  stream  of  folks  on  foot; 
while  farther  along  almost  a  regiment  crosses  the  drive,  their  huddled  shel- 
ter tents  extending  entirely  across  the  peninsula.  These  are  playing  cards 
on  the  ground,  and  tossing  quoits,  and  sleeping  on  their  faces,  while  a  gun- 
boat watches  the  river  front,  and  under  a  circular  wall  a  line  of  patrols,  ten 
yards  apart,  go  to  and  fro  perpetually. 

It  is  10  o'clock,  and  the  court  is  soon  to  sit.  Its  members  ride  down  in 
8«perb  ambulances  and  bring  their  friends  along  to  show  them  the  maje.»ty 


The   Trial.  63 

of  justice.  A  perfect  park  of  carriages  stands  by  the  door  to  the  left,  and 
from  these  dismount  major-generals'  wives,  in  rustling  silks ;  daughters  of 
congressmen,  attired  like  the  lilies  of  the  milliner ;  little  girls  Mho  hope  to 
be  young  ladies  and  have  come  with  "  Pa,"  to  look  at  the  assassins ;  even 
brides  are  here,  in  the  fresh  blush  of  their  nuptials,  and  they  consider  the 
late  spectacle  of  the  review  as  good  as  lost,  if  the  court-scene  be  not  added 
to  it.  These  tender  creatures  have  a  weakness  for  the  ring  of  manacles, 
the  sight  of  folks  to  be  suspended  in  the  air,  the  face  of  a  woman  confede- 
rate in  blood. 

They  chat  with  their  polite  guides,  many  of  whom  are  gallant  captains, 
and  go  one  after  another  up  the  little  flight  of  steps  which  leads  to  the 
room  of  the  officer  of  the  day. 

He  passes  them,  if  he  pleases,  up  the  crooked  stairways,  and  when  they 
have  climbed  three  of  these,  they  enter  a  sort  of  garret-room,  oblong,  and 
plastered  white,  and  about  as  large  as  an  ordinary  town-house  parlor. 

Four  doors  open  into  it — that  by  which  we  have  entered,  two  from  the 
left,  where  the  witnesses  wait,  and  one  at  the  end,  near  the  left  far  corner, 
"which  is  the  outlet  from  the  cells. 

A  railing,  close  up  to  the  stairway  door,  gives  a  little  space  in  the  fore- 
ground for  witnesses  ;  two  tables,  transverse  to  this  rail,  are  for  the  com- 
mission and  the  press,  the  first-named  being  to  the  right ;  between  these 
are  a  raised  platform  and  pivot  arm-chair  for  the  witness  ;  below  are  the' 
sworn  phonographers  and  the  counsel  for  the  accused,  and  then  another 
rail  like  that  seperating  the  crowd  from  the  court,  holds  behind  it  the. 
accused  and  their  guards. 

These  are  they  who  are  living  not  by  years  nor  by  weeks,  but  by  breaths. 
They  are  motley  enough,  for  the  most  part,  sitting  upon  a  long  bench  with 
their  backs  against  the  wall, — ill-shaved,  haggard,  anxious,  and  the  dungeon 
door  at  their  left  opens  now  and  then  to  show  behind  it  a  moving  bayonet. 
There  are  women  within  the  court  proper,  edging  upon  the  reporters,  intro- 
duced there  by  a  fussy  usher,  and  through  four  windows  filters  the  imper- 
fect daylight,  making  all  things  distinguishable,' yet  shadowy.  The  coup 
d'ceil  of  this  small  and  crowded  scene  is  lively  as  a  popular  funeral. 

There  is  the  witness  with  raised  hand,  pointing  toward  heaven,  and  look 
ing  at  Judge  Holt.  The  gilt  stars,  bars,  and  orange-colored  sashes  of  the 
commission ;  the  women's  brilliant  silks  and  bonnets ;  the  crowding  spec- 
tators, with  their  brains  in  their  eyes ;  the  blue  coats  of  the  guards  ;  the 
working  scribes;  and  last  of  all  the  line  of  culprits,  whose  suspected  guilt 
has  made  them  worthy  of  all  illustration. 

Between  the  angle  of  the  wall  and  the  studded  door,  under  the  heavy  bar 
of  dressed  stone  which  marks  above  the  thickness  of  the  gaol,  sits  all  alone 
a  woman's  figure,  clothed  in  solemn  black.  Her  shadowy  skirt  hides  her 
feet,  so  that  we  cannot  see  whether  they  are  riveted;  her  sleeves  of  sable 
sweep  down  to  her  wrist,  and  dark  gloves  cover  the  plumpness  of  her  hand, 
■while  a  palm-leaf  fan  nods  to  and  fro  to  assist  the  obscurity  of  her  vail  of 
crape,  descending  from  her  widow's  bonnet. 

A  solitai-y  woman,  beginning  the  line  of  coarse  indicted  men,  shrinking 
beneath  the  scornful  eyes  of  her  sex,  and  the  as  bold  survey  of  men  more 
pitiful,  may  well  excite,  despite  her  guilt,  a  moment  of  sympathy. 

Let  men  remember  that  she  is  the  mother  of  a  son  who  has  fled  to  save 
his  forfeit  life  by  deserting  her  to  shame,  and  perhaps,  to  death.  Let  wo- 
men, who  will  not  mention  her  in  mercy,  learn  from  her  end,  in  all  suc- 
ceeding wars,  to  make  patriotism  of  their  household  duties  and  not  incite 
to  blood. 


i 


64  The  Life,   Crime,  and   Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

Mrs.  Surratt  is  a  graduate  of  that  seminary  which  spits  in  soldiers'  faces, 
denounces  brave  generals  upon  the  rostrum,  and  cries  out  for  an  intermi- 
nable scaftold  when  all  the  bells  are  ringing  peace. 

How  far  her  wicked  love  influenced  her  to  participation  in  the  murder 
rests  in  her  uwn  breast,  and  up  to  this  time  she  has  not  differed  from  mo- 
thers at  large — to  twist  her  own  bow-string  rather  than  build  his  gibbet. 

Beneath  her  shadowy  bonnet,  over  her  fan-tip,  we  see  two  large,  sad 
eyes,  rising  and  falling,  and  now  and  then  when  the  fan  sways  to  and  fro, 
the  hair  just  turning  gray  with  trouble,  and  the  round  face  growing  wan 
and  seamed  with  terrible  reflection,  are  seen  a  moment  crouching  low,  as  if 
she  would  wish  to  grovel  upon  the  floor  and  bury  her  forehead  in  her 
hands.  -"^ 

Yet,  sometimes,  across  Mrs.  Surratt's  face  a  stealthiness  creeps — a  sort 
of  furtive,  feline  flashing  of  the  eye,  like  that  of  one  which  means  to  leap 
sideways.  At  these  times  her  face  seems  to  grow  hard  and  colorless,  as  if 
that  tiger  expression  which  Pradier  caught  upon  the  face  of  BrinviUiers  and 
fastened  into  a  masque,  had  been  repeated  here.  Not  to  grow  mawkish 
while  we  must  be  kind,  let  us  not  forget  that  this  woman  is  an  old  plotter. 
If  she  did  not  devise  the  assassination,  she  was  privy  to  it  long.  She  was 
an  agent  of  contraband  mails — a  bold,  crafty,  assured  rebel — perhaps  a  spy 
— and  in  the  event  of  her  condemnation,  let  those  who  would  plead  for  her 
spend  half  their  pity  upon  that  victim  whose  heart  was  like  a  woman's, 
and  whose  hand  was  merciful  as  a  mother's. 

Before  the  door  sits  an  officer,  uncovered,  who  does  not  seem  to   labor 
under  any  particular  fear,  chiefly  because  the  captives  are  ironed  to  immova 
bility,  and  he  stares  and  smiles  alternately,  as  if  he  were  somewhat  amiable 
and  extremely  bored. 

Next  to  the  officer  is  a  shabby-looking  boy,  whose  seat  is  by  the  right 
jamb  of  the  jail  door.  Of  all  boys  just  old  enough  to  feel  their  oats,  this 
boy  is  the  most  commonplace  His  parents  would  be  likely  lo  have  no 
sanguine  hopes  of  his  reaching  the  presidency;  for  his  head  indicates  latent 
dementia,  and  a  slice  ,or  two  from  it  would  recommend  him,  without  ex 
amination,  to  the  school  for  the  feeble-minded.  Better  dressed,  and  washed, 
and  shaved,  he  might  make  a  tolerable  adornment  to  a  hotel  door,  or  even 
reach  the  dignity  of  a  bar-keeper  or  an  usher  at  a  theatre.  But  that  this 
fellow  should  occupy  a  leaf  in  history  and  be  confounded  with  a  tragedy 
entering  into  the  literature  of  the  world,  reverses  manifest  destiny,  and 
leaves  neither  phrenology  nor  physiognomy  a  place  to  stand  upon. 

Come  up  !  Gall,  Spurzheim,  and  Lavater,  and  remark  his  sallow  face, 
attenuated  by  base  excesses !  Do  you  know  any  forehead  so  broad  which 
means  so  little  ?  the  oyster  could  teach  this  man  philosophy  !  His  chin  is 
sharp,  his  eyes  are  blank  blue,  his  short  black  hair  curls  over  his  ears,  and 
his  beard  is  of  a  prickly  black,  with  a  moustache  which  does  not  help  his 
general  contemptibleness.  A  dirty  grayish  shirt  without  a  linen  coUa'',  is 
seen  between  the  lapels  of  the  greasy  and  dusty  cloth  coat,  sloping  at  the 
shoulders  ;  and  under  his  worn  brown  trowsers,  the  manacle  of  iron  makes 
an  ugly  garter  to  his  carpet  slipper. 

This  is  David  Harold,  who  shared  the  wild  night-ride  of  Booth,  and 
barely  escaped  that  outlaw's  death  in  the  burning  barn. 

He  stoops  to  the  rail  of  the  dock,  now  and  then,  to  chat  with  his  attorney, 
an5  a  sort  of  blank  anxiety  which  he  wears,  as  his  head  turns  here  and 
there,  sliifts  to  a  frolicking  smile.  But  a  woman  of  unusual  attractions 
enters  the  court,  and  Harold  is  much  more  interested  in  her  than  in  his 
acquittal. 


The  Trial.  66 

Great  Caesar's  dust,  which  stopped  a  knot-hole,  has  in  this  play  boy  an 
inverse  parallel.  He  was  at  best  hostler  to  a  murderer,  and  tailed  in  that. 
His  chief  concern  at  present  is  to  have  somebody  to  talk  to;  and  he  thinks, 
upon  the  whole,  that  if  an  assassination  is  productive  of  so  little  fun,  he  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  another  one. 

That  Harold  has  slipped  into  history  gives  us  as  much  surprise  as  that 
he  has  yet  to  sutler  death  gives  us  almost  contempt  for  the  scaffold.  But 
if  the  scaffold  must  wait  for  only  wise  men  to  get  upon  it,  it  must  rot. 
Your  wise  man  does  no  murder  in  the  first  place,  and  if  so,  in  the  second, 
he  dodges  the  penalty.  In  this  'v^rld,  Harold,  idiotcy  is  oftener  punished 
than  guilt. 

That  Booth  should  have  used  Harold  is  very  naturally  accounted  for. 
Actors  live  only  to  be  admired ;  vanity  rises  to  its  climax  in  them.  Booth 
preferred  this  sparrow  to  sing  him  peans  rather  than  live  by  an  eagle  and 
be  screamed  at  now  and  then. 

At  the  right  hand  side  of  Harold  sits  a  soldier  in  blue,  who  is  evidently 
thinking  about  a  game  of  quoits  with  his  comrades  in  the  jail  yard  ;  he  won- 
ders why  lawyers  are  so  very  dry,  and  is  surprised  to  find  a  trial  for  mur- 
der as  tedious  as  a  thanksgiving  sermon. 

But  on  the  soldier's  other  hand  is  a  figure  which  makes  the  center  and 
cynosure  of  this  thrilling  scene.  Taller  by  a  whole  head  than  either  his 
companions  or  the  sentries,  Payne,  the  assassin,  sits  erect,  and  flings  his 
barbarian  eye  to  and  fro,  radiating  the  tremendous  energy  of  his  colossal 
physique. 

He  is  the  only  man  worthy  to  have  murdered  Mr.  Seward.  When 
against  the  delicate  organization,  the  fine,  subtle,  nervous  mind  of  the  Sec- 
retary of  State,  this  giant,  knife  in  hand,  precipitated  himself,  two  forms  of 
civilization  met  as  distinctly  as  when  the  savage  Gauls  invaded  the  Roman 
senate. 

Lawlessness  and  intelligence,  the  saVage  and  the  statesman,  body  and 
mind,  fought  together  upon. Mr.  Seward's  bed. 

The  mystery  attending  Payne's  home  and  parentage  still  exists  to  make 
him  more  incomprehensible.  Out  of  the  vague,  dim  ultima  thule, 
like  those  Asiatic  hordes  which  came  from  nowhere  and  shivered  civilization, 
Payne  suddenly  appeared  and  fought  his  way  to  the  sanctum  sanctorum  of 
law.  I  think  his  part  in  the  assassination  more  remarkable  than  Booth's. 
The  latter's  crime  was  shrewdly  plotted,  as  by  one  measuring  intelligence 
with  the  whole  government.  But  Payne  did  not  think — he  only 
struck  ! 

With  this  man's  face  before  me  as  I  write,  lam  reminded  of  some  Maori 
chief  waging  war  from  the  lust  of  blood  or  the  pride  of  local  dominion. 
His  complexion  is  bloodless,  yet  so  healthy  that  a  passing  observer  would 
afterward  speak  of  it  as  ruddy.  His  face  is  broad,  with  a  character  nose, 
sensual  lips,  and  very  high  cheek  bones  ;  the  cranium  is  full  and  the  brow 
speaking,  while  the  head  runs  back  to  an  abnormal  apex  at  the  tip  of  the 
cerebellum.  His  straight,  lusterless  black  hair,  duly  parted,  is  at  the  sum- 
mit so  disturbed  that  tufts  of  it  rise  up  like  Red  Jacket's  or  Tecumseh's ; 
but  the  head  is  kept  well  up,  and  rests  upon  a  wonderfully  broad  throst, 
muscular  as  one's  thigh,  and  without  any  trace,  as  he  sits,  of  the  protuber- 
ance called  Adam's  apple.  Withal,  the  eye  is  thd  man  Payne's,  power.  It 
is  dark  and  speechless^  and  rolls  here  and  there  like  that  of  a  beast  in  a  cage 
which  strives  in  vain  to  understand  the  language  of  its  captors. .  It  seems 
to  say,  if  anything,  that  it  has  no  sympathy  with  anybody  approximate, 
and  has  submitted,  like  a  lion  bound,  to  the  logic  of  conviction  and  of  cU'tins. 


.^^ 


r 


66  The  Life,   Crime,  and  Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

Payne  looks  at  none  of  his  fellow-prisoners :  assassins  caujjht  seldom  cares 
to  recognise  each  other ;  for  while  there  is  faithfulness  among  thieves,  there 
is  none  among  murderers.  His  great  white  eyeball  never  roves  to  any- 
body's in  the  dock,  nor  theirs  to  his.  He  has  confessed  his  crime  and  they 
know  it;  so  they  have  no  mutual  hope ;  thoy  listen  tu  the  evidence  because 
it  concerns  them  ;  he  looks  at  it  only,  because  it  cannot  save  him.  He  is 
entirely  beardless,  yet  in  his  boyish  chin  more  of  a  man  physically  than 
the  rest,  combined. 

While  I  watch  this  man  I  am  constantly  repeating  to  myself  that  stanza 
of  Bryant's : 

"  Upon  the  market  place  he  stood, — 

A  man  of  giant  frame, 
Amid  the  gatherine;  multitude 

That  shrunk  to  hear  his  name  ; 
All  proud  of  step  and  firm  of  limb. 

His  dark  eye  on  the  ground — 
And  silently  they  gazed  on  him, 

As  on  a  lion  bound." 

His  dress,  which  we  scarcely  notice  in  the  grander  contrast  of  his  pose 
and  stature,  is  an  old  shirt  of  woolen  blue,  with  a  white  nap  at  the  button- 
holes, and  upon  his  knees  of  black  cloth  he  twirls,  as  if  for  relaxation,  be- 
bWeen  his  powerful  manacles,  a  soiled  white  handkerchief — if  from  his 
mother,  we  conjecture,  a  gift  to  a  bloodhound  from  his  dam.  His  heavy 
handcuffs  make  his  broad  shoulders  more  narrow.  Yet  we  can  see  by  the 
outline  of  the  sleeves  what  girth  the  muscles  has,  and  the  hand  at  the  end 
of  his  long  and  bony  arm  is  wide  and  huge,  as  if  it  could  wield  a  clay- 
more as  well  as  a  dirk.  He  also  wears  carpet  slippers,  but  his  ankles  are 
clogged  with  so  heavy  irons  that  two  men  must  carry  them  when  he  enters 
or  leaves  the  dock.  For  this  man  there  can  be  no  sentiment — no  more 
than  for  a  bull.  The  flesh  on  his  face  is  hard,  as  if  cast,  rather  than  gener- 
ated, and  while  we  see  how  he  towers  above  the  entire  court,  we  watch 
him  in  wonder,  as  if  he  were  some  maniac  denizen  of  a  zone  where  men 
without  minds  grow  to  the  stature  and  power  of  fiends. 

The  face  of  Payne  is  not  of  the  traditional  southern  peculiarities.  He 
resembles  rather  a  Pennsylvania  mountaineer  than  a  Kentucky  rustic. 

Three  weeks  ago  1  gave,  in  an  account  of  the  conspiracy  which  many 
gainsayed,  but  which  the  trial  has  fully  confirmed,  a  sketch  of  this  man,  to 
which  1  still  adhere.  He  was  furnished  to  Booth  and  John  Surratt  from 
Canada;  sent  upon  special  service  with  his  life  in  his  hands  ;  and  he  faced 
the  murder  he  was  to  commit  like  any  prize-fighter.  I  pity  Beall,  who  died 
intelligently  for  a  wretched  essay  against  civilians,  that  his  biography  and 
fate  must  be  matched  by  this  savage's  ! 

Next  to  Payne,  and  crouching  under  him  like  a  frog  under  a  rock,  is  an 
inconsiderable  soldier,  who  chews  his  cud,  and  would  cheerfully  hang  his 
protege  for  the  sake  of  being  rid  of  him.  My  sympathies  are  entirely  en- 
listed for  this  soldier ;  he  has  neither  the  joy  of  being  acquitted,  nor  the 
excitement  of  being  tried.  He  is  quite  a  sizable  man  by  himself,  but 
Payne  overhangs  him,  and  the  dullness  of  the  trial  quite  stultifies  him. 
The  few  points  of  law  which  are  admitted  here  are  not  so  evident  to  this 
soldier  as  the  point  of  his  bayonet.     I  see  what  ails  him. 

He  wants  to  swear. 

A  beam  running  overhead  divides  the  court  lengthwise  in  half,  and  as  tht 
prisoners  sit  at  the  end  of  the  court,  the  German  Atzerolt,  or  Adzeroth, 
has  a  place  just  beneath  the  beam.     This  is  very  ominous  for  Atzerott. 


The  Trial.  67 

The  filthiness  of  this  man  denies  him  sympathy.  He  is  a  disnjusting  little 
groveler,  of  dry,  sandy  hair,  oval  head,  ears  set  so  dose  to  the  chin  that 
one  would  think  his  sense  of  hearing  limited  to  his  jaws,  and  a  complexion 
so  yellow  that  the  uncropped  brownness  of  his  beard  does  not  materially 
darken  it.  He  wears  a  grayish  coat,  low  grimy  shirt,  and  the  usual  carpet 
slippers  of  threadbare  red  over  his  shifting  and  shiftless  feet.  His  bond  ia 
bent  forward,  and  seems  to  be  anxiously  trying  to  catch  the  tenor  of  the 
trial.     Many  persons  outside  of  the  court,  Atzerott,  are  equally  puzzled ! 

From  as  much  examination  of  this  man  as  his  insignificance  permits,  I 
should  call  him  a  "  gabby"  fellow — loud  of  resolution,  ignoble  of  effort. 
Over  his  lager  no  man  would  be  braver.  His  face  is  familiar  to  me  from 
a  review  of  those  detective  cabinets  usually  called  "  Rogues'  Galleries."  As 
a  "sneak  thief"  or  "bagman,"  I  should  convict  him  by  his  face;  the  same 
indictment  would  make  me  acquit  him  instantly  of  assassination.  In  this 
estimate  I  rely  upon  evidence  as  well  as  upon  appearance.  Atzerott 
swaggered  about  Kirkwood's  Hotel  asking  for  the  Vice-President's  room ; 
Payne  or  Booth  would  have  done  the  murder  silently.  Nobody  pities  a 
dirty  man.  The  same  arts  of  dress  and  cleanliness  which  please  ladies 
influence  juries. 

Next  to  Atzerott  sits  a  soldier — a  very  jolly  and  smooth  faced  soldier — 
who  at  one  time  hears  a  witness  say  something  laughable.  The  soldier 
immediately  grins  to  the  farthest  point  of  his  scalp.  But  he  is  chagrined 
to  find  that  the  joke  is  too  trivial  to  admit  of  a  laugh  of  duration.  Very 
few  jokes  before  the  present  court  do  so.  But  this  soldier  being  of  long 
charity  and  excellent  patience,  awaits  the  next  joke  like  a  veteran  under 
orders,  and  reposes  his  chin  upon  the  dock  as  if  aware  that  between  jokes 
there  was  ample  time  for  a  nap. 

The  next  prisoner  to  the  right  is  O'Laughlin.  He  is  a  small  man,  about 
twenty-eight  years  of  age,  attired  in  a  fine,  soiled  coat,  but  without  white 
linen  upon  either  his  bosom  or  neck,  and  handcufl^s  rest  hugely  upon  his 
mediocrity.  His  moustache,  eye-brows,  and  hair  are  regular  and  very 
black.  He  does  not  look  unlike  Booth,  though  he  seems  to  have  little 
bodily  power,  and  he  is  very  anxious,  as  if  more  earnest  than  any  of  the 
rest,  to  have  a  fair  lease  upon  life.  His  countenance  is  not  prppossessing, 
though  he  might  be  considered  passably  good  looking  in  a  mixed  company. 

Between  O'Laughlin  and  the  next  prisoner,  Spangler,  sits  a  soldier  in 
ultramarine — a  discontented  soldier,  a  moody,  dissatisfied,  and  arbitrary 
soldier.  His  definition  of  military  justice  is  like  the  boy's  answer  at  school 
to  the  familiar  question  upon  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States : 

"  What  rights  do  accused  persons  enjoy  ?" 

The  boy  wrote  out,  very  carefully,  this  answer : 

"  Death  by  hanging." 

The  boy  would  have  been  correct  had  the  question  applied  to  accused 
persons  before  a  court-martial.  ^ 

Spangler,  the  scene-shifter  and  stage-carpenter,  has  the  face  and  bearing 
of  a  day-laborer.     His  blue  woollen  shirt  does  not  confuse  him,  as  he  is  ( 

used  to  it.  He  has  an  oldish  face,  wrinkled  by  fearful  anticipations,  and 
his  hair  is  thin.  He  is  awkwardly  built,  and  watches  the  trial  earnestly,  as 
if  striving  to  catch  between  the  links  of  evidence  vistas  of  a  life  insured. 
This  man  has  a  simple  and  pleading  face,  and  there  is  something  genial  in 
his  great,  incoherent  countenance.  He  is  said  to  have  cleared  the  stage  for 
Booth's  escape,  but  this  is  indifferently  testified  to.  He  had  often  been 
asked  bv  Booth  to  take  a  drink  at  the  nearest  bar.     Persons  who  drink 


68  The  Life,   Crime,  and   Capture  of  John    Wilkes  Booth. 

assure  me  that  the  greatest  mark  of  confidence  which  a  great  man  can  show 
a  lesser  one  is  to  make  that  tender ;  this,  therefore,  explains  Booth's  power 
over  Spangler. 

Spangler  is  the  first  scene-shifter  who  may  become  a  dramatis  personae, 

A  soldier  sits  between  Spangler  and  Doctor  Mudd.  The  soldier  would 
like  Spangler  to  get  up  and  go  away,  so  that  he  could  have  as  much  of  the 
bench  as  he  might  sleep  upon.  This  particular  soldier,  I  may  be  qualified 
to  say,  would  sleep  upon  his  post. 

Doctor  Mudd  has  a  New  England  and  not  a  Maryland  face.  He  com- 
pares, to  those  on  his  left,  as  Hyperion  to  a  squatter,  llis  high,  oval  head 
is  bald  very  far  up,  but  not  benevolently  so,  and  it  is  covered  with  light 
red  hair,  so  thin  as  to  contrast  indifl'erently  with  the  denseness  of  his  beard 
and  goatee.  His  nose  would  be  insignificant  but  for  its  sharpness,  and  at 
the  nostrils  it  is  swelling  and  high-spirited.  His  eyes  impinge  upon  his 
brows,  and  they  are  shining  and  rather  dark,  while  the  brows  themselves 
are  so  scantily  •  clothed  with  hair  that  they  seem  quite  naked.  Mudd  is 
neatly  dressed  in  a  green-grass  duster,  and  white  bosom  and  collar  ;  if  he 
had  no  other  advantages  over  his  associates  these  last  would  give  it  to  him. 
He  keeps  his  feet  upon  the  rail  before  him  in  true  republican  style,  and 
rolls  a  morsel  of  tobacco  under  his  tongue. 

The  military  commission  works  as  if  it  were  delegated  not  to  try,  but 
to  convict,  and  Dr.  Mudd,  if  he  be  innocent,  is  in  only  less  danger  than  if 
he  were  guilty.  He  has  a  sort  of  home-bred  intelligence  in  his  face,  and 
socially  is  as  far  above  his  fellows  as  Goliah  of  Gath  above  the  rest  of  the 
Philistines. 

On  the  right  of  Doctor  Mudd  sits  a  soldier,  who  is  striving  to  looK 
through  his  leg's  at  the  iudse-advocate,  as  if  taking  a  sort  of  secret  aim  at 
that  person,  with  the  intent  to  fetch  him  down,  because  he  makes  the  trial 
so  very  dry,  and  the  soldier  so  very  thirsty. 

The  last  man,  who  sits  on  the  extreme  right  of  the  prisoners,  is  Mr. 
Sam.  Arnold.  He  is,  perhaps,  the  best  looking  of  the  prisoners,  and  the 
least  implicated.  He  has  a  solid,  pleasant  face  ;  has  been  a  rebel  soldier, 
foolishly  committed  himself  to  Booth,  with  perhaps  no  intention  to  do  a 
crime,  recanted  in  pen  and  ink,  and  was  made  a  national  character.  Had 
he  recanted  by  word  of  mouth  he  might  have  saved  himself  unpleasant 
dreams.  This  shows  everybody  the  absurdity  of  writing  what  they  can  so 
easily  say.  The  best  thing  Arnold  ever  wrote  was  his  letter  to  Booth  refu- 
sing to  engage  in  murder.  Yet  this  recantation  is  more  la  evidence  against 
him  than  his  original  purpose. 

Arnold  looks  out  of  the  window,  and  feels  easy. 

The  reporters  who  are  present  are  generally  young  fellows,  practical  and 
ardent,  like  Woods,  of  Boston  ;  Colburn,  of  The  World;  and  Major 
Poore,  who  has  been  the  chronicler  of  such  scenes  for  twenty  years.  Ber. 
Pitman,  one  of  the  authors  of  phonetic  writing,  is  among  the  official  re- 
porters, and  the  ^furphies,  who  could  report  the  lightning,  if  it  could  talk, 
are  slashing  down  history  as  it  passes  in  at  their  ears  and  runs  out  at  their 
fingers'  ends. 

The  counsel  for  the  accused  strike  me  as  being  commonplace  lawyers. 
They  either  have  no  chance  or  no  pluck  to  assert  the  dignity  of  their  pro- 
fession. Reverdy  Johnson  is  not  here.  The  first  day  disgusted  him,  as 
he  is  a  practitioner  of  laio.     Yet  the  best  word  of  the  trial  has  been  his . 

"  I,  gentlemen,  am  a  member  of  that  body  of  legislators  which  creates 
courts-martial  and  major-generals  !" 


The   Trial.  69 

The  commission  has  collectively  an  imposing  appearance  :  the  face  of 
Judge  Holt  is  swarthy ;  he  questions  with  slow  utterance,  holding  the 
witness  in  his  cold,  measuring  eye.  Hunter,  who  sits  at  the  opposite  end 
of  the  table,  shuts  his  eyes  now  and  then,  either  to  sleep  or  think,  or  both, 
and  the  other  generals  take  a  note  or  two,  and  watch  for  occasions  to  dis- 
tinguish themselves. 

Excepting  Judge  Holt,  the  court  has  shown  as  little  ability  as  could  be 
expected  from  soldiers,  placed  in  unenviable  publicity,  and  upon  a  duty 
for  which  they  are  disqualified,  both  by  education  and  acumen.  Witness 
the  lack  of  dignity  in  Hunter,  who  opened  the  court  by  a  coarse  allusion 
to  "  humbug  chivalry;"  of  Lew.  Wallace,  whose  heat  and  intolerance  were 
appropriately  urged  in  the  most  exceptional  English  ;  of  Howe,  whose 
tirade  against  the  rebel  General  Johnson  was  feeble  as  it  was  ungenerous ! 
This  court  was  needed  to  show  us  at  least  the  petty  tyranny  of  martial 
law  and  the  pettiness  of  martial  jurists.  The  counsel  for  the  defense  have 
iust  enough  show  to  make  the  unfairness  of  the  trial  partake  of  hypocrisy, 
iind  the  wideness  of  the  subjects  discussed  makes  one  imagine  that  the 
object  of  the  commission  is  to  write  a  cyclopedia,  and  not  to  hang  or  ac- 
(j^uit  six  or  eight  miserable  wretches. 


K^m\^.: 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 

The  peaceful  valleys  reaching  wide, 

The  wild  war  stilled  on  everj  hand ; 
On  Pisgah's  top  our  Prophet  died, 

In  si^ht  of  Promised  Land. 

A  cheerful  heart  he  bore  alway, 

Though  tragio  years  clashed  on  the  while ; 

Death  sat  behind  him  at  the  play — 
His  last  look  was  a  smile. 

His  single  arm  crushed  wrong  and  thrall — 
That  grand  good  will  we  only  dreamed. 

Two  races  weep  around  his  pall. 
One  saved  and  one  redeemed. 

No  battle  pike  his  march  imbrued  ; 

Unarmed  he  went  'midst  martial  mails. 
The  footsore  felt  their  strength  renewed 

To  hear  his  homely  tales. 

The  trampled  flag  he  raised  again, 

And  healed  our  eagle's  broken  wing ; 
The  night  that  scattered  armed  men 

Saw  scorpions  rise  tp  sting. 

Down  fell  the  brand  in  treason's  hand 

Its  gashes  as  he  strove  to  staunch. 
And  o'er  the  waste  of  ruined  land 

To  take  the  Olive  Branch. 

The  holy  crest  by  murder  stained, 

Upon  its  shattered  portal  lie ; 
The  text  this  bravo's  lips  profaned 

Be  sanctified  for  aye ! 

In  still  green  field  or  belfried  kirk, 

Where'er  high  boughs  his  sleep  may  lull, 

Here  closed  his  life,  where  closed  his  work. 
Beside  the  Capitol. 

Be  his  no  tomb  perturbed  and  pent, 

With  words  too  weak  for  grief  begilt, — 

Heap  up  his  grander  monument : 
The  Union  he  rebuilt ! 

Gbo.  Alfred  TowirsBin). 


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By  the  author  of  "The  Sociable,"  "The  Secret  Out,"  "The  Magician's  Own  Buoh."  Illustrated  with  a 
Great  Variety  of  Engravings,    This  book  will  have  a  large  sale.    It  will  furnish  fun  and  amusement  for  a 

whole  winter.     Paper  covers.    Price 30 

Bound  in  boards,  vnth  cloth  back 50 

Book  of  Riddles  and  Five  Hundred  Home  Amuse- 

MENTS.  Containing  a  Choice  and  Curious  Collection  of  Riddles,  Charades  Enicrnas,  Rebuses,  Anagrams, 
Transpositions,  Conundrums,  Amusing  Puzzles,  Queer  Sleights,  Recreations  in  Arithmetic,  Fireside  Games, 
and  Natural  Magic,  embracing  Entertaining  Amusements  in  Magnetism,  Chemistrj',  Second  Sight,  and  Simple 
Becreatjong  in  Science  for  Family  and  Social  pastime,  illustrated  with  sixty  engrarings.    Paper  covers. 

Price 30 

Bound  in.  boards,  with  cloth  b-ck 50 

Parlor  Tricks  with  Cards.     Containing  Explanations  of  all  thp 

Tricks  and  Deceptions  with  Playing  Cards  ever  invented,  embr;icing  Trick<  vrt'n  C.\.\l-i  i»crformed  by  Sleight- 
of  Hand ;  by  the  Aid  of  Memory,  Mental  Calculation,  and  Arran.;emcnt  ci'  lb,-  C^r.ts  ;  )  y  the  aid  of  Confede- 
racy, and  Tricks  Performed  by  the  aid  of  Prepared  Cards.    The  whole  lUuiir-iird  fand  made  plain  and  easy, 

with  seventy  engravings.    Paper  covers,  price -   30 

Bound  in  boards,  with  cloth  back 50 

The  Book  of  Fireside  G-ameS.     Containing   aa   Explanation  of 

the  most  entertaining  Games  suited  to  the  Family  Circle  as  a  Recreation,  such  as  Games  of  Action,  Games 
■which  merely  require  attention,  Games  which  require  memory.  Catch  Games,  which  have  for  their  objects 
Tricks  or  Mystifi',:ation,  Games  in  which  an  opportunity  is  afforded  to  display  OalLmtry,  Wit,  or  some  slight 
knowledge  of  certain  Sciences,  Amusing  Forfeits,  Fireside  Games  for  Winter  Evening  Amusement,  6cc.  Paper 

covers,  price 3() 

Bound  in  boards,  with  cloth  back 30 

Parlor  Theatricals ;  ^^'  Winter  Evmings'  Entertainment.  Con- 
taining Acting  Proverbs,  Dramatic  Charades,  Acting  Charade.^,  or  Prawing-room  Pantomimes,  Musical  Bur- 
lesques, Tableaux  Vivants,  <Vc.;  with  Instructions  for  Amateurs;  how  to  construct  a  Stage  and  Curtain  ;  how 
to  get  up  Costumes  and  Properties,  on  the  "Making  Up"  of  Characters,  Exits  and  Entrances  ;  how  to  arrange 

Tableaux,  &c.    Illustrated  with  engravings.    Paper  covers,  price 30 

Bound  in  boards,  cloth  back ^. . 50 

Hillgrove's  Ball  Room  G-uide,  and  Complete  Dancing 

MASTER.  Containing  a  Plain  Trentise  on  Etiquette  and  Deportment  at  Balls  and  Parties,  with  Valuable 
llmts  on  Dross  and  the  Toilet,  together  with  full  explanations  of  the  Rudiments,  Terms,  I'igures  and  Steps 
used  in  Dancing,  including  clear  and  preci-so  Instructions  how  to  Dance  all  kin^l.^  of  Quadrilles,  WaltKcs, 
Polkas,  Redowas,  Reels,  Round,  I'laia  .ind  Fam  j^  Dances,  so  that  any  person  may  learn  them  without 
tlie  aid  of  a  Teacher  ;  to  which  is  added  Easy  Dire<;tions  for  Calling  out  the  Figures  of  Every  Dance,  and  the 
amount  of  Music  required  for  each.  The  whole  illustrated  with  one  hundred  and  seventy-six  descriptive 
Engravings  and  Diagrams,  by  Thomas  Hillgbove,  Professor  of  Dancing.    Bound  in  cloth,  with  gilt  side  and 

b.ick,  price 75 

B*»un<i  in  boards,  with  cloth  back $  1  00 

100  Tricks  "with  Cards.     J-  H.  Green,  tlie  Reformed  Gambler, 

has  just  authorised  the  publication  of  a  new  edition  of  his  book  entitled  "  Gamblrr)^'  Tricks  with  Cards  Ex- 
posed and  Explciined."  This  is  a  book  of  96  pages,  and  exposes  and  explain.T  ail  t  he  myst«tioH  of  the  Gambling 
Table.  It  is  in;  i-esting  not  only  to  those  who  play,  but  to  those  who  do  not.  Old  Players  will  fct  aoaie  ney 
idaa*  from  this  curious  book.    Price  . 30 


DICK  &  FITZGERALD'S  CATALOGUE. 


"Trump's"  American  Hoyle;  or.  Gentlemen's  Handhook  of  Ga7ne». 

Gonttiiuing  clear  and  complete  descriptions  of  all  the  Games  playi^d  iu  the  United  States, 
•with  the  American  Kules  for  playing  them,  including,  Whist,  Euchre,  Bezique,  Crib- 
bage,  All-Fours,  Loo,  Poker,  Brag,  Piquet,  Ecarte,  Boston,  Cassino,  Chess,  Checkers, 
Backgammon,  Dominoes,  BUliardk,  and  a  hundred  other  games.  To  which  is  appended 
an  Elaborate  Treatise  on  the  Doctrine  of  Chances. 

Reasons  why   "  Tlie  American  Hoyle"   mast  be  tUo  Standard  Antbiority  for 
All  Ganics  played  in  tUe   United   States  :    Bccanse 

It  is  an  American  Book,  prepared  with  great  care, 
with  the  aid  an'd  Cuunsel  of  a  large  number  of  the 
best  players  (both  amateur  and  professional)  id  this 
country. 

The  Kules,  descriptions,  definitions  and  technical- 
ities are  all  simplitted  and  adapted  to  the  several 
games  as  they  are  actually  pl;iyed  here. 

Many  of  our  games  are  peculiarly  American,  and 
cannot  be  intelligibly  described  except  by  an  Amer- 
ican who  understands  them,  while  those  of  foreign 
origin  have  become  so  changed  ly  American  modi- 
fications, as  to  make  the  European  rules  and  descrip- 
tions as  likely  to  mislead  as  to  instruct. 

In  preparing  this  work  the  best  or  greatest  weight 
of  authority  for  each  particular  game  has  been  taken 
upon  disputed  points. 

All  the  pames  played  in  the  ITnited  States,  whether 
ct  home  or  foreign  origin,  are  given  as  they  are 
played  by  Americans  at  tlie  pi  eseiit  day. 

No  complete  woik  on  the  popular  games  of  this 
•ountry,  exhibiting  them  as  they  are  actually  played 
here,  has  ever  been  published,  until  "The  American 
Hoyle"  appeared. 

The  important  games  of  Chess,  Draughts  and  Back- 
gammon are  illustrated  with  over  130  diagrams  of 
games,  problems  and  criticiil  positions,  all  of  which 
have  been  carefully  played  upon  the  board  since  the 
work  was  stereotyped,  and  nearly  100  errors  (which 
appear  in  English  game  books  and  their  American 
reprints)  have  been  coirected. 

The  game  of  Kussian  Bac  kgammon,  one  of  the 
most  pleasing  fireside  games,  and  which  has  been 


much  sought  after,  has  never  been  published  in  any 
book  of  games,  until  the  editor  of  "The  American 
Hoyle"  gave  it  to  the  public  in  tliat  work. 

Faro  as  it  is  presented  in  foreign  game  books, 
and  as  it  really  is  in  the  United  States,  as  pre»ented 
in  "The  American  Hoyle,"  are  two  entirely  distinct 
things,  and  no  one  can  understand  it  or  play  it  safely 
unless  he  has  the  American  authority  to  refer  to. 

Euchre  and  Bezique  are  both  popular  gamss, 
and  both  occupy  the  extended  space  which  their 
importance  deserves — this  is  deemed  essential  to 
the  settlement  of  the  many  disputed  points  that 
have  from  time  to  time  arisen  in  relation  to  both 
games. 

The  important  game  of  Boston,  as  played  in  the 
United  States,  is  now  given  for  the  first  time  in  any 
book  of  games. 

The  many  disputed  points  in  the  games  of  All- 
Fours,  Poker,  Pitch,  Loo,  and  Vingt-Un,  are  all 
enlarged  upon,  and  careful  and  accurate  deci«ioni 
are  given. 

The  treatise  on  Billiards  and  Pool  is  by  Minhael 
Phelan,  who  is  too  well  known  to  need  further 
mention  here. 

If  you  study  the  "Doctrine  of  Chances,"  as  pre- 
sented in  "  The  American  Hoyle,"  you  will  be  much 
less  likely  to  come  out  second  best  in  a  game  than 
if  you  "  go  ilk  blind." 

"Be  sure  you're  right,  then  go  ahead,"  was  Col. 
Crockett's  advice.  How  can  you  be  sure  you're  rigiit 
and  go  ahead  safely,  unless  you  have  "Tlie  American 
Hoyle"  to  settle  doubtful  points  for  you  X 

As  a  live  American  book,  prepared  with  great  care,  and  adapted  especially  to  their  wants, 
it  commends  itself  to  the  American  people,  and  must  speedily  become  the  standard  authority 
npon  all  matters  of  which  it  treats. 

The  Amebicaii  Hoi-u;  contains  over  500  pages,  is  printed  on  fine  white  jaaper,  bound  in 
cloth,  with  extra  gilt  side  and  back,  and  is  proftisely  illustrated  with  engravings  explaining 
atud  different  games.    Price  $2  00  ;  sent  free  of  postage. 

Frank  Converse's  Complete  Banjo  Instructor,  without 

a  Master.  Containing  a  choice  collection  of  Banjo  Solos,  Hornpipes,  Reels,  Jigs,  Walt- 
Arounds,  Songs  and  Banjo  Stories,  progressively  arranged  and  plainly  explained, 
enabling  the  learner  to  become  a  proficient  Banjoist  without  the  aid  of  a  teacher. 

The  necessary  explanations  accompany  each  tune,  and  are  placed  under  the  notes  on  eaoli 
page,  plainly  shoviriiig  the  string  required,  the  finger  to  be  used  for  stopping  it,  the  manner 
of  striking,  and  the  number  of  times  it  must  be  sounded.  This  is  all  arranged  and  explained 
in  BO  olear  a  manner,  and  the  method  is  so  simple  and  easy  to  learn,  that  it  may  be  readily 
comprehended  at  a  ghmce  by  any  person,  even  of  very  limited  understanding.  By  this  sim- 
ple method  a  person  may  ma.ster  a  tune  in  an  hour  or  so.  Mr.  Converf53  is  an  eminent  pro- 
fessor of  the  Banjo  and  a  thorough  musician,  and  his  plan  of  instruction  is  entirely  new  and 
perfectly  easj'.  This  book  is  no  catchpenny  affair,  but  is  just  what  wa  say  it  is.  The  In- 
STBUCTOB  is  illuistratrd  with  dis^ams  and  explanatory  sjonbols.  The  following  list  of  tunoei 
will  give  an  idea  of  its  contents. 


Arkansas  Traveller,  (with  story,) 

Boatman's  Dance, 

Bee  Gum  Reel, 

Bully  for  You, 

Koston  Jig, 

Butler's  Jig, 

Brighton  Jig, 

Calabash  Dance, 

Cotten  Pod  AValk- Around. 

Callowhill  Jijr, 


Coon  Hunt  Walk-Around, 

Cano  Brake  lle«l. 

Essence  of  Old  Virginny, 

Iloop-de-doo-den-doo, 

Hyde's  Favorite, 

Juba, 

liuke  West's  Walk- Around, 

Lanagan's  Ball, 

>lr.  Brown, 

Mat  Peel's  Walk-Around, 


My  Love  is  but  a  Lx^e, 

Oh  Susanna, 
O'Flaherty's  Wake, 
Operatic  Jig, 
Ilumsey's  Jig, 
The  Charcoal  Man. 
Union  Coikade, 
Walk  into  de  Parlor, 
Whole  Hog  or  None, 
Yankee  ]>oodle. 


100  pages,  boitnd  in  boards,  cloth  hack.    Pries  50  ce?i/s  ;  sent  free  of  postage  on  receipt  of  price. 
Send  eash  orders  to       DICK  <C    FITZGERALD,  Publishers,  Nttv  York, 


DICK  &  FITZGERALD'S  CATALOGUE. 


Le  Marcliand's  Fortune-Teller  and  DreaiT.er's  Die- 

IlONARY.  Contiiininga  complete  Dictionary  of  Dreams  alphabetically  arranged,  witha  clear  Interpretation 
of  each  Dream,  and  the  Lucky  Numbers  that  belong  to  them.  AIbo  showing  how  to  Tell  fortunes  by  the 
Won.lerful  and  Mysterious  Lady's  Love  Oracle  ;  How  to  Foretell  the  Sex  and  Number  of  Cliihlrcn ;  IIow  to 
Wake  u  Lover  or  Sweetheart  come  to  You  ;  To  tell  whether  your  Lover  or  Sweetheart  Loves  You  ;  How  to  tell 
any  Person's  Age;  To  know  who  j-our  future  Husband  will  be,  and  how  soon  you  will  beMirried;  To  ascer- 
tain whether  your  Husband  or  Wife  is  True  to  You  ;  How  to  Tell  Future  Kvents  with  Cards,  Dice,  Tea  and 
CotTee  Grounds,  Eggs,  Apple  Parings,  and  the  Lines  of  the  Hand;  How  to  Tell  a  Person's  Character  by 
Cabalistic  Calculations,  &c.  By  Madame  Le  Mauchand,  the  celebrated  Parisian  Fortunc-Teller.  Illus- 
trated with  a  Steel  Frontispiece  and  numerous  Wood  Engi-ayings.  This  book  contains  H4  pages,  and  is 
bound  in  pasteboard,  with  cloth  back.    Price 40 

Pettengill's  Perfect  Fortnne-Teller  and  Dream-Book : 

or,  The  Art  of  Discerning  Future.  Events.  This  is  a  most  complete  Fortune-Tellcr  and  Dream-Book,  and  is 
one  of  the  best  ever  printed.  It  is  compiled  with  great  care  from  authentic  authorities  on  Astrology,  Geo- 
mancy.  Chiromancy,  Necromancy,  Spiritual  Philosojjhy,  &c.,  &c.  A  mong  the  subjects  treated  of  are— Casting 
Nativities  by  the  Stars  ;  Telling  Fortunes  by  Lines  on  the  Hiind,  by  Moles  on  the  Boily,  by  Turning  Cards,  by 
Questions  of  Destiny,  by  Physical  Appearances,  by  the  Day  of  Birth,  &c.  ;  Signs  of  Character  from  tha 
Shape  of  the  Finger  Nails,  the  Nose,  the  Eyes,  the  Marks  on  the  Body,  the  Shape  of  the  Head ;  and  also 
Signs  to  Choose  Husbands  and  Wives,  &c.  Indeed,  it  is  tiie  most  complete  and  curious  Book  of  Destiny  eyet 
printed.  Everything  you  can  think  of  as  to  fate  or  fortune  is  here  explained.  A  baok  of  144  pages,  bound 
m  boards,  with  cloth  back.    Pr"!te 40 

The  Everlasting  Fortune-Teller  and  Magnetic  Dream  * 

BOOK.  Containing  the  Science  of  Foretelling  Events  by  the  Signs  of  the  Zodiac  ;  Lists  of  Lucky  and  Un- 
lucky Days,  with  Presages  drawn  therefrom  ;  List  of  Fortunate  Hours  ;  Physioguumy,  or  Prognostics  drawn 
from  the  color  and  nature  of  the  Hair  of  Men  and  Women,  also  from  their  whole  assemblage  of  features  ;  tha 
Science  of  Foretelling  Events  by  Cards,  Dice,  Dominoes,  &c.,  the  Siience  Foretelling  anything  in  the  Futur9 
by  Dreams  ;  and  also  containing  Napoleon's  Ouacvlum,  or  the  Book  of  Fate,  found  in  the  Cabinet  of  Nape 
leoa  Buonaparte.    Price  only 35 

The  Lady's  Love  Oracle:  or,   Counselor  to  the  Fair  Sex.     Being 

a  complete  Fortune-Teller  and  Interpreter  to  all  questions  upon  the  different  events  and  situations  of  life, 
but  more  especially  relating  to  all  circumstances  connected  with  Love,  Courtship  and  Marriage.  By  Madame 
Lk  Maechand.    Illustrated  cover,  printed  in  colors.    Price 30 


BOOKS   ON   ETIQUETTE,    LOVE,    LETTER  WRSTS^iC    &c. 

The  Perfect  Gentleman.     A  book  of   Etiquette  and  Eloquence, 

containing  Information  and  Instruction  for  those  *ho  desire  to  become  brilliant  or  conspicuous  in  General 
Society,  or  at  Parties,  Dinners,  or  Popular  Gatherings,  &c.  It  gives  directions  how  to  use  wine  at  table,  with 
Rules  for  judging  the  quality  thereof,  Kulcs  for  Carving,  and  a  complete  Etiquette  of  the  D.nuer  Table,  in- 
cluding Dinner  Speeches,  Toasts  and  Sentiments,  Wit  and  Conversation  at  Table,  A:c.  It  has  also  an  American 
Code  of  Etiquette  and  Politeness  for  all  occasions;  Model  Speeches,  with  Directions  how  to  deliver  them; 
Duties  of  the  Chairman  at  Public  Meetings,  Forms  of  Preambles  and  Kesolutions,  &c.  It  is  a  handsomely 
bound  and  gilt  volume  of  335  pages.    Price— — — $1  50 

ChesterfiekVs  Letter- Writer  and  Complete  Book  of 

ETIQUETTE;  or.  Concise,  Si/stemalic  Directions  for  Arranging  and  Writing  Lrtters.  Also,  Model  Corres- 
pondence in  Friendship  and  Business,  and  a  great  variety  of  Model  Love  Letters.  This  work  is  also  a  Com- 
plete Book  of  Etiquette.  You  will  find  more  real  information  in  this  boov  than  in h;ilf-a-dozen  volumes 
of  the  more  expensive  ones.  This  book  contains  136  pages,  and  is  bound  in  pasteboard  sides,  with  cloth  back. 
Price 40 

Etiquette  and  the  Usages  of  Society.    Containing  the  most 

approved  Hules  for  Correct  Conduct  in  Social  and  Fashionable  Life  ;  with  Hints  to  both  Gentlemen  and 
Ladies  on  Awkward  and  Vulgar  Habits.     Also,  the  Etiquette  of  Love  and  Courtship,  Mai-riage  Etiquette,  &c. 

By  H.  P.  Willis.     A  book  of  C4  pages.     Price _ .     15 

Bound  in  cloth,  with  gilt  side  and  printed  on  fine  paper  suitable  for  a  present  to  a  lady 50 

Arts    of   Beauty,    or,   Secrets  of  a  Lady's    Toilet.     With    Hints   to 

Gentlemen  on  the  Art  of  Fascinating.  By  Mad.ame  Lola  MoKTr?:.  Countess  of  Landsfeldt.  Cloth,  gilt  side. 
This  book  contains  an  account,  in  detail,  of  all  the  arts  employed  by  the  fashionttble  ladies  of  all  the  chief 
cities  of  Europe,  for  the  purpose  of  developing  and  preserving  thuir  charms.    Price 75 

The  Ladies'  G-uide  to  Beauty.     A  Companion  for  the  Toilet. 

Containing  practical  advice  on  improving  the  complexion,  the  hair,  the  hands,  the  form,  (he  teeth,  the  eyes, 
the  feet,  the  features,  so  as  to  insure  tie  highest  degree  of  peafection  of  which  they  are  Busceptible.  And 
also  upwards  of  otie  hundred  rneipes  for  various  cosmetii^,  oils,  pomades,  &c.,  &c.,  being  tho  result  of  a  com- 
bination of  practical  and  scientific  skill..  By  Sir  Jame^  Clark,  Private  Physician  to  Queen  Victoria.  Re- 
vised ftnd  edited  by  an  American  Physician  and  Chemist.    Paper,  price 85 


10  DICK  &  FITZGERALD'S  CATALOGUE.      * 

Tlie  Laws  of  Love.     ^  Complete  Code  of  Gallantry.     Containing 

concise  rules  for  the  conduct  of  Courtship  through  its  entire  progress,  aphorisms  of  love,  rules  for  telling  the 

characters  and  dispositions  of  women,  remedies  for  love,  and  an  epistolary  code. 

Price - 35 

Tlie  Art  of  Conversation :    TF^Y/i  Remarks  on  Fashion  and  Ad- 
dress.   By  Mrs.  Mabeei.t.    This  is  the  best  book  on  the  subject  ever  published.    It  contains  nothing  that  is 
verbose  or  difficult  to  understand,  but  all  the  instructions  and  rules  for  conversation  are  given  in.  a  plain  and 
common-sense  manner,  so  that  any  one,  however  dull,  can  easily  comprehend  them. 
Price as 

Courtship  Made  Easy ;   or,  The  Art  of  Making  Love  fully  Ex- 

plained.  Containing  full  and  minute  directions  for  conducting  a  Courtship  with  Ladies  of  every  age  and 
position  in  society,  and  valuable  information  for  persons  who  desire  to  enter  the  marriage  state.  Also,  forms 
of  Love-letters  to  be  used  on  certain  occasions.    64  pages.    Price 15 

How  to  Win    and    How  to  Woo.     Containing  Rules   for  the 

Etiquette  of  Courtship,  with  directions,  showing  how  to  win  the  favor  of  the  Ladies,  how  to  begin  and  end  a 
Courtship,  and  how  Love  Letters  should  be  written.    Price 1-3 

Bridal  Etianette.  A  sensible  Guide  to  the  Etiquette  and  Observances 

of  the  Marriage  Ceremonies  ;  containing  complete  directions  for  Bridal  Receptions,  and  the  necessary  rule.? 
for  Bridesmaids,  Groomsmen,  sending  Cards,  &o.    Price 13 

HO"W  to  Beliave '  <"■>  The  Spirit  of  Etiquette.     A  Complete  Guide  to 

Polite  Society,  for  Ladies  and  Gentlemen ;  containing  rules  for  good  behavior  at  the  dinner-table,  in  the 
parlor,  in  the  street ;  with  important  hints  on  introduction,  and  the  art  of  conversation.    Price 1 3 

How  to  Dress  with.  Taste.     Containing  hints  upon  the  harmony 

of  colors,  the  theory  of  contrast,  the  complexion,  shape,  or  height,  &c.  This  little  volume  forms  a- most 
suitable  companion  for  the  toilet-table ;  and  every  Lady  and  Gentleman  should  possess  a  copy,    Price..     13 

Anecdotes  of   Love.     Being  a  true  account  of  the  most  remarkable 

events  connected  with  the  History  of  Love  in  all  Ages  and  among  all  Nations.  Ey  Lola  Montez.  Large 
12mo,  cloth.  These  romantic  and  surprising  anecdotes  really  contain  all  of  the  most  traeic  and  comic  events 
connected  with  the  history  of  the  tender  passion  among  all  Nations  and  in  all  Ages  of  the  World.  Price.  $  1  50 

The    Dictionary   of   Love.     Containing  a  Definition   of    all   the 

Terms  used  in  the  History  of  the  Tender  Passion,  together  with  specimens  of  curious  model  love  lettew,  and 
many  other  interesting  matters  appertaining  to  Love,  never  before  published  ;  the  whole  forming  a  remark- 
able Text-Book  for  all  Lovers,  as  well  as  a  Complete  Guide  to  Matrimony,  and  a  Companion  of  Married  Life. 
12mo,  cloth,  gilt  side  and  back.    Price $1  50 

Chesterfield's  Art  of  Letter- Writing  Simplified.    A 

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MASONIC    BOOKS. 

Richardson's  Monitor  of  Freemasonry.    A  complete  Guide 

to  the  various  Ceremonies  and  Routine  in  Freemasons'  Lodges,  Chapters,  Encampments,  Hierarchies,  &c.,  &c., 
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Words  in  each  Degree.  Profusely  illustrated  with  explanatory  Engravings  and  I  latos.  By  J abi:z  Uichxrd- 
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Morgan's    Freemasonry    Exposed    and    Explained. 

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\ 


\ 


^-  DICK  &  FITZGERALD'S  CATALOGUE.  11 

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The  Bordeaux  Wine  and  Liquor  Dealers'  G-uide.    A 

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The  Book  of  1,000  Com.ical  Stories;  or,  Endless  Repast  of 

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L>aughing  G-as.     ^  Encyclopoedia  of  "Wit,  "Wisdom  and  "Wind.    By 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 

973.7L63DT664L  C001 

THE  LIFE.  CRIME,  AND  CAPTURE  OF  JOHN  WIL 


